


Shadows of the Future

by stormqueen873



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe, Angst, Bonding, Family Drama, Family Feels, Fix-It, Fluff, Gen, Humor, Kid Anakin, Mental bonds, Mystery, Poor Obi-Wan, Protective Obi-Wan, RotS-Obi-Wan, Seriously Fix-It, Time Travel Fix-It, What's Going On With Obi-Wan, Worried Qui-Gon, sort of
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-12
Updated: 2016-03-14
Packaged: 2018-05-19 20:27:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 46,920
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5980018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stormqueen873/pseuds/stormqueen873
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Obi-Wan lost the duel on Mustafar, but instead of dying, he finds himself on a ship leaving Tatooine, with his old Master and a familiar young boy. As events begin to unfold, can he stop the future he knows from occurring? Can he save the Jedi, save the Galaxy, and perhaps most important of all: can he prevent Anakin's fall?</p>
<p>Originally posted on fanfiction.net</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Well! Welcome to the _Shadows of the Future_ repost! For those of you who may not have run into this story on ff.net, welcome. For those of you looking for this fic on AO3, welcome back! I'm going to post it up day by day, so if you can't wait to re-read all of it, it's still up on ff.net for your reading pleasure. Below are the original notes, edited to make a little more sense. This story was originally posted on fanfiction.net in July of 2006.
> 
> Well, welcome to my SW epic. I started this monster after I saw RotS and felt like my heart had been ripped out, which automatically makes me want to search for/ write fanfiction. I started to explore reasons why Anakin turned in the first place and kept coming up with the same conclusion, which will be examined in this fic. It deals with lots of "What ifs?" and starts with the "What if Anakin had succeeded during the duel on Mustafar?" Which leads into the "What if Obi-Wan, instead of dying, found himself sucked back in time over ten years?" Hope you all enjoy it; I tried to put everything I had into this fic, and I'm extremely proud of the results.
> 
> A very big thanks to Nienna, Wyn, and Alethia, who all helped me beta this monster in some way, shape, or form. I know it took a long time, considering the length, but it was worth every minute. So thanks you guys; if you're reading this after all these years, your help meant so much!
> 
> Now, without further ado, the story!

***

Prologue

_Time: 13 years after the Naboo Crisis_

_Place: Mustafar_

***

_Why?_

Obi-Wan pondered the question silently, air rushing up around him and the wind roaring in his ears as he stared up at the receding catwalk. Ana- no, _Vader’s_ face sneered down at him and the Sith’s laughter rang out, sending chills down Obi-Wan’s spine. It was sad, he decided absently. Anakin had been such a charismatic young man, and to see him reduced to something so vile, so _twisted_ , was a true crime.

_Why did you do this?_

A crime against what though, Obi-Wan really didn’t know. His mind was behaving oddly, which was why, he decided, he was moving so slowly. Gravity on Mustafar was no different from what would be considered normal, as the planet was the same relative size and mass as most populated worlds. Surely his mind was playing tricks on him, or he had to be defying a natural law. While the wind in his ears was awfully loud, Vader didn’t seem to be getting any further away. What was happening to him?

_Why did you betray us?_

Obi-Wan decided that he was dying. Everything was slowing down because his brain had decided to draw out his last moments, to savor the few seconds he had still to live. Surely that was a rational thing for the brain to want to do; surely he was still being rational?

_Why did you kill everyone?_

Obi-Wan frowned slightly; why was he falling in the first place? Was he even truly falling? There was a catwalk above him that he dimly remembered standing on and he knew there was a river of molten lava somewhere down below him. But what had happened? Had he been pushed? Had Vader pushed him?

_Why didn’t you spare anyone, even innocent children?_

Obi-Wan thought for a moment. Yes, he decided, Vader had pushed him, as they’d been dueling. It had been quite foolish of them, to do so near lava, completely exposed to the toxins it released and unprotected from the heat. Yet they’d been dueling just the same, taking out their anguish and frustrations in the only way they truly knew how. Neither of the two really talked to each other, after all, when it came to dealing with their emotions.

_Why do you hate us so?_

Someone was screaming.

_What did we do to deserve such hate?_

Just screaming and screaming, never to be silent and give him the peace he so desperately craved.

_I want to know._

Obi-Wan started when he realized it was him; _he_ was screaming. His mind tried shake himself out of whatever strange state he’d locked himself in, telling him to do something, to fight back, to grab the Force and save himself from certain death in the lava…

_I want to know why._

His mind was succeeding; he was returning to reality. The screaming grew louder, the wind howled as it tore at his tunics and scorched his skin. Vader’s laughter echoed off the volcanic rock, his yellow eyes piercing the dark clouds that billowed between them, and time sped up. Obi-Wan’s throat was raw, his eyes burned, and his hand was out-stretched, reaching desperately for the catwalk, to the person who hated him with such sickening fervor…

_I’m going to die, but before I do, answer this one question._

Obi-Wan breathed in, his lungs protesting when noxious fumes filled them, the air scalding sensitive tissue. He shut his eyes then, though Vader’s bitter face rose before him just the same, the yellow eyes taunting, accusing, hating. Where had he gone wrong? When had Anakin become this monster, and why hadn’t he been paying attention? Would he have been able to stop it?

_It’s a simple request._

Not that it really mattered, part of him added, because he was going to be dead soon anyway. He had failed; it was time to let everything go.

_Just answer this one question, and I’ll never bother you again._

He had failed in nearly every way possible, and there was nothing he could do about it.

_Why did you do it?_

Part of him rose indignantly at that; hadn’t he done what his Master asked and made Anakin into the best Jedi Knight in the galaxy?

_What made you do it?_

No, his mind countered, he’d failed in that.

_What made you hate us so?_

Because Anakin had fallen.

_What have we ever done but love you?_

He’d meant to be the best possible Master to the boy, to help him curb his anger, to help him follow the Code, but Obi-Wan had failed there too.

_Is that why you hate us?_

Because Anakin had fallen.

_Because we don’t show our love?_

Quite spectacularly in fact, a little part of him added, and now he was in the process of falling to his death. It was rather ironic, actually– a master falling to his doom because of a fallen apprentice. He would have laughed if he’d been able.

_Because we aren’t as blatant as you are?_

At least he wouldn’t suffer when he finally hit. He still had the Force, after all. Obi-Wan stretched out his mind, pushing aside his exhaustion, and called upon as much of it as he could possibly handle.

_Because we don’t wear our hearts on our sleeves for you to examine?_

Let it take his regret; let it take his pain. Let it erase everything so he could at least die in peace, so he could leave the galaxy to its fate and finally rest. Part of him felt he should care, but honestly, why should he even bother? Anakin had fallen. He had failed. He was nothing; he could do nothing. He couldn’t change anything.

_Because we never said anything?_

After all, what had happened was the past, and the past was immutable.

_Why couldn’t you see how much we cared?_

He _wanted_ to die, he realized. He wanted it to be over. He didn’t want to have to live knowing that the young man he’d loved like a son, like a brother, had sold his very soul to darkness. Anakin had become a twisted monster, and Obi-Wan couldn’t begin to fathom the reason _why_.

_I thought it was obvious; I thought you knew._

The galaxy had been turned on its head and no one cared. No one had even tried to stop the genocide of the Jedi, standing on the sidelines as they were butchered, and Obi-Wan just wanted it all to end. No more chaos, no more Clone Wars, no more ambiguous sides and betrayals. Just him, the Force, and utter peace.

_You were my family; I loved you._

He found himself smiling when the Force wrapped around him like one giant security blanket, its arms cradling him in their warmth.

_You don’t care; you don’t care if I love you._

In a way, it reminded him of Qui-Gon. There was a kindness, a grounded feeling he’d always associated with his late master that suddenly encircled him, gently touching his mind and soothing away any lingering anxiety.

_I poured my soul out to you, but it wasn’t enough._

It was then he knew.

_Answer this: why wasn’t love enough for you?_

He knew he was ready to die.

_Why, Anakin?_

***


	2. Chapter One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Obi-Wan wakes up, and he's understandably confused.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much to everyone for your reviews and kudos and messages; it means so much to have so many people tell me that this fic holds a special place in their hearts. Love to all of you!
> 
> Before I begin, I want to make a point that parts of this chapter’s plot and lines belong not to me, but to George Lucas, as they were taken from the movies _The Phantom Menace_ and _Revenge of the Sith._ They are the creation of his imagination, and I stake no claim whatsoever. I am merely reproducing them here to further my own plot.
> 
> Originally posted to fanfiction.net in 2006.

***

 1.

_Time: During the Naboo Crisis_

_Place: Tatooine_

***

_I can’t believe it,_ Anakin thought, huffing and puffing as he struggled to keep up with Qui-Gon. _Maybe I’ve lost my mind; I’ve been out in the sun too long. Yeah, that_ must _be it. There is absolutely_ no _way I heard him right._

“Anakin! Keep up!”

He made a sour face at Qui-Gon’s voice. Nope, he’d heard right after all. Apparently walking briskly -Anakin was already jogging- wasn’t enough for the Jedi; he wanted to break out into a full on run. During the hottest part of the Tatooine day, in an area with sand that sucked at their ankles with every step, and with absolutely no shade in sight.

_Yup,_ Anakin thought as he tightened his grip on his backpack and swallowed around his already parched throat. _I’ve lost it. Too many podrace crashes. They’ve destroyed what little brains I might’ve had._

Then he was running, running as fast as his nine-year old legs could carry him in an attempt to keep up with the long-limbed Jedi Master. His pack slapped heavily against his back and he stumbled repeatedly when it threw him off balance. He made the mistake of throwing a hand out to catch himself and jerked back with a yelp; the sand was painfully hot. He was starting to feel it through the thin soles of his boots and the part of him that wasn’t focused on surviving this little jaunt through the Wastes began to grumble about being better off with Watto.

_No,_ he told himself, setting his jaw and slamming those mental doors before they could be fully opened. _I promised Mom I wouldn’t look back. So I’m not gonna. I’ve got to believe that we’ll get to our destination soon. Qui-Gon’s smart enough to realize it’s crazy to be running out here and he wouldn’t be doing it without good reason._

Any reason a powerful Jedi Master might have for running in this heat was reason enough for Anakin to be following, and as fast as possible.

His grumbling side settled, but not without one final burst of frustration when Anakin slipped again, the sand nearly scalding his bottom.

“You’re doing well, Ani! Just a little further!”

Anakin drew a deep, hot breath at Qui-Gon’s yell of encouragement, and another part of him flushed with pride from the simple words, which gave new strength to his aching legs. He skidded down another dune only to feel a rush of relief that they’d come to a relatively flat spot.

“Mister Qui-Gon, sir,” he called, panting, “can we rest? I’m getting tired!”

“Not yet,” the Jedi Master responded. “We’re almost there. Can’t you see the ship?”

Anakin’s head snapped up at Qui-Gon’s statement, his eyes combing the glaring horizon for any sign of their destination. He grinned sheepishly when his gaze finally landed on the gleaming spaceship; how in the world had he missed it? The silver surface shone brightly in the sun, practically beckoning him to hurry into its temperate interior and explore the mysterious depths of its cool shadows. He nearly stopped to stare and take in every possible detail, but momentum kept him moving and excitement flooded his veins.

“Wizard!” he whispered, forcing himself to run faster, despite the stitch that settled in his side and the sweat that poured down his forehead. That sleek, beautiful ship was his ticket off the forsaken rock of Tatooine, and no amount of fatigue was going to stop him now that he could almost taste his freedom.

Fate, it seemed, was determined to stall him.

“ _Anakin!_ ”

Qui-Gon’s shout made Anakin’s head snap up, his attention instantly upon the Jedi Master.

“ _Drop!_ ”

He obeyed without question, landing face-first in the sand just as a speeder bike of some kind raced overhead. The backwash tugged at his clothes, making him forget the burning heat he was pressed against, and he pushed himself up quickly.

His jaw dropped when a black-cloaked figure leapt from the speeder, a long, silver cylinder grasped in its right hand.

_Why isn’t that guy collapsing from the heat?_ Anakin wondered as a strange _snap-hiss!_ echoed through the small area, and he gasped in wonder. Lightsabers! He’d never seen one in action before and…

They were _awesome!_ He watched as Qui-Gon deftly repelled a blow that could’ve easily removed his head, the red and green blades hissing and spitting as they crossed. If this was what it meant to be a Jedi, to get to use one of those wizard weapons, then he absolutely had to be one!

“ _Anakin!_ ”

Qui-Gon’s shout once again brought him back to the present, his attention snapping to the older man. “Get to the ship! Tell them to take off!”

Anakin nodded, even though he knew Qui-Gon was too busy fending off the other Jedi to see it, and began a mad dash for the spaceship. Fear rose in his gut for a fleeting instant, a dark chill settling on his shoulders, and his racing-honed instincts screamed at him to move faster. He began to zigzag across the sand, cutting as unpredictable a path as possible, and found himself thankful for the warning when several laser bolts splashed near him. Did that dark figure have a blaster on top of a lightsaber?

_Don’t stop to look, you_ koochoo! he yelled at himself when he felt his feet slowing down. _Just get inside! Then you’ll be safe!_

With one final burst of energy, he threw himself inside the waiting ship, breathing a sigh of relief.

But Fate wasn’t done with him yet.

He cried out when he crashed headlong into something previously unseen. He went sprawling, landing on his back with a loud, painful crunch that he sincerely hoped wasn’t his favorite model.

“Ow…” he muttered, adding a few choice words in Huttese while rubbing his forehead, which had hit whatever he’d run into.

“Are you all right?”

The smooth, precisely accented voice startled Anakin, and he found himself blinking up at a young man with short, ginger hair and clear, blue-green eyes. His overall appearance was odd, despite the way his clothes resembled something a poor moisture farmer might wear on Tatooine. Anakin assumed it was the long, thin braid that dangled by the young man’s right ear, some of the many beads that decorated it shining in the artificial lights.

_Jedi,_ something whispered, and Anakin gaped.

“You bumped into me in your haste to get onboard,” the young man continued, and Anakin found the Jedi peering back at him with a mixture of curiosity and concern. “Are you hurt?”

“I’m f…fine!” he said, finally gathering his wits. Still panting slightly, he pushed himself up. “But Qui-Gon, he’s in trouble! He told me to tell you to take off!”

A light frown brushed the features of the young man, but he didn’t argue. “You stay here. I’ll relay your message.”

With a flurry of a long brown robe, the young man vanished off into a hallway, which Anakin assumed led to the cockpit. A few moments later, the ship rumbled beneath him and Anakin rolled onto his stomach so that he could peer out at the desert.

He found that they were hovering a few meters off the ground and blinked when he saw flashes of red and green in the middle of a swirling sand cloud.

_Qui-Gon!_ he thought with a brief flash of panic. Was the older Jedi all right? Was he holding out against his opponent? How was he planning on getting aboard, or were they going to take off and simply leave him to battle alone?

_Blasted sand, I can’t see a thing!_ he thought with a grumble, squinting as he watched the blades clash again and again in a whirlwind of movement, his fists clenching against the cool metal of the gangplank beneath him. He hated being helpless, but there was little he could do. What good would he be against that dark figure? Against someone fully trained with a lightsaber?

It was then he realized that they were moving closer, and he watched as the green blade broke away from the fight. He gasped slightly, anxious for Qui-Gon, and suddenly the Jedi Master was there, touching down on the gangplank. Anakin gasped again and rolled out of the way as the hatch began to close, hissing as it sealed shut.

Anakin stood then, only to leap forward to try and help the Jedi when he collapsed backwards.

“Mister Qui-Gon!”

“Don’t… fuss,” the Jedi Master said between pants, and Anakin frowned at the exhaustion he somehow sensed. “I’ll be all right. Fighting in heat like that always takes something out of me.”

“We shouldn’t have run then. You probably would’ve fought better if we hadn’t,” Anakin said, shrugging his pack finally and searching for a water canteen he thought he’d added to his things, just in case.

“Perhaps,” Qui-Gon said and smiled in thanks when Anakin passed him the small container. “Perhaps not. I’m alive, and that’s what counts.”

“So what was that thing?” he asked, kneeling beside Qui-Gon and biting his lower lip a little. “And why was it attacking us?”

“That’s something everyone would like to know.”

Anakin glanced up at the familiar voice to find that the young man had returned. He gave Anakin a small nod in greeting before kneeling on the other side of Qui-Gon, and he placed a hand on the Jedi Master’s shoulder.

“Are you all right, Master?” the young man asked and Anakin blinked. Master? This young man wasn’t a slave…

Was he?

_No,_ Anakin told himself firmly. The Jedi were part of the Republic, and they outlawed slavery.

So then why had the young man called Qui-Gon ‘Master’ if he wasn’t a slave?

Qui-Gon smiled in response, his deep blue eyes warm as he nodded. “I think so, padawan. That was quite a surprise though. One I doubt I’ll forget.”

Anakin found his frown deepening. Padawan? Was that the young man’s name? It sounded more like a title…

“What was it?” the young man asked, repeating Anakin’s question.

“I’m not sure,” Qui-Gon responded. “But he was well trained in the Jedi arts. My guess is that he was after the queen.”

The young man nodded in agreement. “They must’ve found a way to trace the transmission we received. There’s no other way they could’ve located us.”

Qui-Gon frowned a little and took another sip from the canteen. “But if he was trained in our ways then it is possible he could’ve tracked us through the Force,” the Jedi Master mused, his eyes glazing over in thought, and Anakin noticed the young man had stiffened.

“What does this mean, Master? Could we have a traitor somewhere in the Temple?” the young man asked, a frown creasing his features, and Qui-Gon mirrored it when he processed the words.

“However unlikely it may seem, it is possible,” the older man said with a sigh and began rubbing the bridge of his nose. Anakin watched as the young man squeezed Qui-Gon’s shoulder, his frown giving way to a tight-lipped smile that radiated grim determination, and the older Jedi returned it.

“But are we safe?” Anakin finally asked, unable to keep silent any longer, and he watched both Jedi turn to look at him. Qui-Gon gave him a warm smile and nodded.

“Safe enough for now,” the elder Jedi said as the young man sat back, and Anakin watched as he tucked his hands into the sleeves of his robe. “But I have no doubt he knows our destination.”

“So what are we going to do about it?” Anakin asked and watched Qui-Gon blink at him in what must’ve been the Jedi equivalent of shock. He could feel the young man staring at him as well, and when Anakin spared a glance at him, he found the young Jedi watching him with raised eyebrows.

“We will be patient,” Qui-Gon said with an amused yet pleased smile, a small laugh bubbling up from his throat. “And we will be cautious upon reaching Coruscant. In the meantime, Ana-”

A startled gasp from the young man made Qui-Gon cut himself off and his gaze snapped to the other rapidly. “Padawan? What’s the matter?”

The young man didn’t respond. Instead, he stared at Anakin with vacant eyes, his hands clasping his robe tightly. Anakin shifted uncomfortably under the stare, unsure of what was happening, and glanced at Qui-Gon for advice.

However, the Jedi Master’s gaze was locked onto the young man, and Anakin watched as a stern frown worked its way across his features.

Qui-Gon sat up then and reached out, intending to touch the young man’s shoulder. “Obi-Wan?” he asked and Anakin frowned inwardly. Was Obi-Wan the guy’s name, or was it another title? It was certainly strange enough to be. “Obi-Wan, what’s wrong? Are you having a vision?”

_A vision?_

Anakin turned his gaze back to the young man. Was he seeing something through the Force? Was that why his eyes looked so empty?

Qui-Gon touched the young man’s shoulder gently and Anakin jumped when the Jedi jerked away with a startled gasp. His blue-green eyes focused and he collapsed on his side, his arms winding around himself. Shivers shook the young man’s body and he squeezed his eyes shut.

“Obi-Wan, what in the world happened?” Qui-Gon asked and Anakin found the older man’s gaze to be brimming with concern.

The young man blinked fuzzily and peered up at them, his brows furrowing in an almost-frown. Anakin fidgeted a little as the young man’s gaze shifted to him and a small jolt went skittering down his spine.

_Did something go wrong with the vision?_ he wondered and met the hazy blue-green gaze as best he could. _But would a vision really mess his head up all that much? Don’t Jedi have them all the time?_

The young man was mouthing something, his eyes locked with Anakin’s, and after a moment he pushed himself up and shook his head a little.

He reached out then, his hand stretching slowly towards Anakin, who frowned a little, but moved to meet the Jedi halfway.

The young man jerked before he could get very far. Anakin started in response, gasping, and watched as the Jedi collapsed.

“ _Obi-Wan!_ ”

Qui-Gon caught the young man and rolled him over, frowning deeply all the while. This time it seemed he’d fainted as his eyes were closed, and Anakin rubbed his upper arms vigorously for a moment, trying to stop the chills that were crawling over his skin.

Once they’d stopped, he crept the small distance between them so he could peer down at the Jedi.

“What happened? Is he all right?”

“I wish I knew, Ani,” Qui-Gon said quietly, his gaze roving over the young man’s face. “Obi-Wan is my apprentice and normally we have a deep bond that allows us to sense what ails the other. But…”

So his name _was_ Obi-Wan. That cleared up one question that was lurking in the back of Anakin’s mind. “It’s not working?” he asked and Qui-Gon nodded as he brushed his fingers over the younger Jedi’s forehead.

“Not at all. It hasn’t been broken, only severely weakened somehow. I can barely sense Obi-Wan’s shields.”

“He has shields? Where?” Anakin asked, frowning, and Qui-Gon laughed a little.

“Not physical shields, Ani. Mental shields,” he said before standing and scooping Obi-Wan’s limp body into his arms. “I’m going to put him to bed, and then I’ll explain all about them, all right?”

“Don’t you want to clean up or something?” Anakin asked as he stood as well and went to grab his pack from the floor. “Or maybe reassure the crew that we’re safe?”

Qui-Gon smiled at him as they started down a hallway. “I do need to speak with Queen Amidala, but I don’t want to risk being away from Obi-Wan when he wakes. He might not be completely lucid, and I need to be there to help him, if I can.”

“So you want me to talk to this queen then?” he guessed and Qui-Gon gave him a tight nod.

“You catch on quickly, Ani,” he said and Anakin beamed. “Please inform her of what has occurred and send my regrets that I will be delayed in making my report. If she wishes to send a handmaiden to speak with me instead, please tell her she is welcome to do so.”

“Will do, Mister Qui-Gon,” he said, nodding to himself slightly. “Where do I find her?”

***

Obi-Wan burned.

His skin felt as though someone was trying to rip it off, to tear flesh from muscle, and flames licked up and down his body. He shuddered, trying to move his hands and beat back the fire, but he couldn’t move. He was stuck writhing in pure agony, unable to wrest himself from his current position.

What had happened to the Force? Why wasn’t it protecting him?

He cried out when searing pain erupted from his joints, and he could hear his skin hissing as it burned, a sick, crisped scent reaching his nostrils. Even though his lungs weren’t working properly, he could still identify smells, and at that moment, he wished he couldn’t. It was just another level of torture he couldn’t seem to find his way out of.

_-Obi-Wan!-_

He jerked at the mental yell; someone was looking for him.

Who? Who would care about a failed, pathetic Jedi Master? Surely Yoda must have felt his death and would waste no one in looking for him.

_Master Yoda…_

The thought of the small master made Obi-Wan curl in on himself, memories of their parting flashing before his eyes.

_“He is like my brother… I cannot do it.” His voice was hoarse with grief, his hands trembling despite the way he’d clasped them together._

_“Twisted by the dark side, young Skywalker has become,” came the soft reply. “The boy you trained, gone he is...consumed by Darth Vader.”_

_He lifted his head, meeting the green eyes that watched him with deep pity._

You ask the impossible! _he wanted to scream._ I cannot kill him! I _will not_ kill him!

_But the words refused to come._

_“Use your feelings, Obi-Wan, and find him, you will.”_

“No,” he hissed, shutting out the thoughts. Now was not the time to dwell.

_-Obi-Wan!-_

Whoever was looking for him was certainly persistent. Perhaps it was Vader, come to finish what he had started, to stab Obi-Wan, cut off his head, dismember him, or do whatever he felt was necessary to kill his former Master. As it stood, there was little Obi-Wan could do to stop the Sith. He couldn’t move; he couldn’t breathe.

Maybe Vader had come to watch him die.

_-Obi-Wan, what is going on? Why aren’t you listening to me? Can’t you hear me?-_

His eyes snapped open, the gases around him stinging them and making him hallucinate. Instead of the darkness he expected, he saw a glowing light. The gleaming white made him wince, and two hazy, tan-colored figures came into view. When he tentatively identified them as people, he began to wonder what had happened. Had someone gotten him to a Med-Center? Was he getting treatment for his wounds?

_-Padawan?-_

Obi-Wan couldn’t believe it. That presence brushing up against his shields, that familiar mental tap… his heart clenched painfully and he gasped. It couldn’t be. It just _couldn’t_ be. Obi-Wan had watched him die, had held him in his final moments-

_-Padawan, respond!-_

_Qui-Gon,_ his mind sobbed. The blessed, comforting presence of his Master had wrapped itself around him and he reached for it, greedily clinging to it with every shred of strength he still possessed. A jerk shook his wounded body and he gasped again, unable to stave off the pain. He then sensed his Master’s deep concern and he felt tears wet his cheeks.

_I’m safe,_ he thought as he closed his eyes, a comforting darkness rising up around him. The Force, it seemed, had decided to return. _I’m finally safe..._

He let the Force take him.

***


	3. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Qui-Gon worries, and Obi-Wan wakes. Briefly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Certain elements in the following chapter are reproduced directly from the movies - you'll know which ones. I've done so to further my own plot, and stake no creative claim to them.

***

Qui-Gon sat on a pilfered chair beside his apprentice’s narrow sleep-couch in their tiny, shared quarters, his elbows digging into his thighs and his fingers laced together as he studied Obi-Wan’s sleeping visage. The young man appeared peaceful, his breathing normal, his lips curved in a small, serene smile. Nothing seemed to be wrong; Obi-Wan looked to be in a calm, deep sleep.

But Qui-Gon knew something was wrong, and it wasn’t simply because he’d felt it. Obi-Wan didn’t sleep like this.

As tightly controlled as his presence was when he was awake, it shocked everyone to discover that Obi-Wan slept like a child. He sprawled out wherever he happened to fall asleep, his arms and legs askew and the blankets tossed haphazardly aside. His pillow usually wound up in the strangest of places, leaving everyone to wonder how it had happened.

And he snored.

Dear _Force_ did he snore. Most of the time it wasn’t so bad, but there had been one night early into his apprenticeship that Qui-Gon had seriously considered giving up being a Master just so he could get away from the racket. Missions were made difficult at times when the nightly soundproofing Qui-Gon placed around his oblivious apprentice failed (which thankfully happened only once in a while, and he had since taught Obi-Wan how to properly reinforce them). The noise was so terrible that Qui-Gon always somewhat guiltily looked forward to negotiation missions that held the promise of distantly separated rooms, and if that turned out to be impossible, he always had a pair of heavy-duty earplugs on hand.

Obi-Wan was not snoring now, though. If Qui-Gon hadn’t known better, he would’ve sworn that his padawan was in a deep healing trance, but that was impossible. The only people who could’ve put Obi-Wan in a trance like that were either him or a Temple Healer. But since neither of those two could’ve possibly done it, there was only one conclusion Qui-Gon could draw.

_But Obi-Wan couldn’t have put himself in one this deep. He’s just a padawan. He doesn’t have that kind of skill yet,_ he thought, frowning a little as he moved to touch his fingertips to Obi-Wan’s cool forehead, trying once again to access their tattered training bond. He failed to gather anything from his unconscious apprentice and he had to fight the flash of worry that ignited in his heart.

_What happened to you, my insolent padawan?_

Earlier, right before Obi-Wan had completely collapsed, the bond had been stronger than ever. Qui-Gon had gone to introduce Anakin and a muffled, tortured scream had echoed along their link, cutting him off and demanding his attention. He’d watched Obi-Wan clutch his head, his blue-green eyes glazing over in pain, and just as Qui-Gon reached out mentally to his apprentice, some of the strongest shields he’d ever encountered had slammed around Obi-Wan’s mind.

_For one heart-stopping moment, I thought he’d died._

Then Obi-Wan had shuddered, his gaze twitching as he attempted to focus on the voices calling him back to reality. Qui-Gon had been screaming into the bond, trying to batter the shields down with all of his might, praying that his apprentice was all right-

He’d succeeded for one brief instant.

The pain that had flooded him then would have knocked him to the ground if he hadn’t been there already, and he’d felt Obi-Wan clinging to the bond, trying to draw strength to bolster his weakening connection.

_I was burning,_ he thought, recalling the way he’d fought off the pain while trying to soothe Obi-Wan at the same time, trying to wrap some semblance of comfort around the shaking young man. He’d heard a loud mental sob of joy before his apprentice had finally relaxed and collapsed, the shields slamming up and kicking Qui-Gon back into his own mind.

He still had no idea what had happened. Part of him was convinced it was some kind of vision, but another wasn’t so sure. Obi-Wan had never collapsed from a vision before, no matter how terrible it happened to be, and he’d never experienced such excruciating pain. Qui-Gon’s heart told him this was something truly out of the ordinary, but he had to wait for Obi-Wan to wake to be sure.

“Mister Qui-Gon, sir?”

A timid voice broke him from his reverie and he looked up to find Anakin standing in the doorway, his clear blue eyes watching Qui-Gon eagerly. Beside him stood one of the queen’s many handmaidens, and Qui-Gon suppressed a small smile when he recognized Padmé. Part of him wondered if she really thought she was fooling him with her act, but he hadn’t said anything yet, and he didn’t ever intend to. He understood the advantages of a decoy.

“Yes, Ani?” he asked and the two stepped into the room, their gazes flicking to Obi-Wan briefly. “I gather the queen decided to send one of her handmaidens,” he continued, his eyes meeting Padmé’s briefly, and she looked away hastily.

“Yeah. That’s why Padmé’s here,” Anakin said before plunking himself down on Qui-Gon’s empty sleep couch, his feet kicking slightly. “She seemed really worried about the attack and the way Obi-Wan fainted.”

“What did you tell her, then?”

Anakin nodded. “I told her everything that had happened and how you said that there was nothing to worry about and we were safe. I added the part about being cautious when we reach Coruscant, just to show that you were thinking ahead and everything.”

Qui-Gon gave Anakin a warm smile before placing a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “You did well, Anakin.” The boy positively beamed. “What else did the queen want to discuss?” he continued, his gaze shifting to the handmaiden.

“She wanted to ask if you had any further qualms about sending messages,” Padmé asked, her tone just a touch irritated. “She also wanted to know if your apprentice collapsing had anything to do with the enemy you faced.”

Qui-Gon watched the girl coolly, easily sensing her frustration and impatience. “Calm yourself, young handmaiden. Tell her majesty that she may send as many messages as she wishes, so long as they do not delay our arrival at Coruscant.”

Padmé bowed slightly, her gaze dropping to the floor, and some of her frustration vanished. “I will tell her to wait then, until we reach our destination.”

“A wise decision,” Qui-Gon responded. “As for your second question, I do not think the two events are related. I do not sense that we are in any danger.”

Padmé frowned lightly, her gaze flicking back to Obi-Wan. “Then what happened? What could’ve made him collapse like he did?”

“It is most likely a particularly intense vision,” Qui-Gon told her, hiding his urge to grimace. “I have found no evidence to suggest that he was drugged, and given the nature of his collapse, I am convinced that it is Force-related.”

Padmé nodded slightly and Qui-Gon gave her a smile that he hoped was reassuring. “Tell her majesty not to worry about it. He is my apprentice and my concern.”

“I will do as you suggest,” the handmaiden said, bowing a second time before backing out of the room and vanishing from sight.

Once she was gone, Qui-Gon turned to Anakin, who was studying the storage shelves that surrounded the sleep couches. The quarters he and Obi-Wan had been given were remarkably large, considering the size of the ship, but were still small in comparison to a normal room. It was longer than it was wide, with the two walls adjacent to the door set with cabinets and storage closets that were meant for personal effects. Since Jedi owned next to nothing, most of them held the remainder of the queen’s extensive wardrobe.

At about half a meter from the floor, sleep couches were inset into those two walls, surrounded by the cabinets, and came complete with a privacy curtain that wasn’t particularly needed. It felt rather like sleeping in a cave, walled in on three sides and then curtained off on the other, but the cushion was thick and Qui-Gon, being just under two meters tall, found he could actually lie on his back without scrunching uncomfortably.

Still, he had hit his head on the overhead cabinets several times upon waking before learning not to sit up hastily.

“Are you getting hungry, Ani?” he asked and watched as the boy’s expression brightened. “Would you mind running to the galley and requesting a meal for us?”

“Sure!” Anakin said, pushing himself off the sleep couch. “Padmé showed me where it is. Do you want anything in particular?”

“Just get whatever is available. I doubt they have much of a selection,” he said and Anakin nodded before vanishing out the door. Qui-Gon smiled at the retreating figure; Anakin was much like Obi-Wan in that respect. Given the opportunity to eat, they would.

And as much as possible.

_Ah, padawan,_ Qui-Gon thought with a mental sigh, his smile fading quickly. _What can I do to make you wake up faster?_

***

_Anakin..._

Obi-Wan drifted along the currents of the Force, allowing it buoy him up with its quiet strength, letting it wash though his soul and dampen the fires that ravaged his body. He felt like he was bleeding, grief eating away at his very flesh, gnawing down to his bones and sinking its fangs into his heart.

_Anakin..._

He was drifting somewhere, but it didn’t really matter, did it? He wanted to forget everything that had happened; he wanted to erase it so he could rest peacefully.

His treacherous mind, however, had different plans.

_“Anakin!”_

He clenched his teeth as the memories flooded him, refusing to vanish quietly. They kept ricocheting around in his head, destroying the little serenity he’d managed, and bringing tears to his eyes from the pain they unleashed.

_“Anakin! Watch out! Don’t fly-”_

_Too late. They went zipping through the arching energy, and Obi-Wan squeezed his eyes shut in pain._

Why couldn’t he forget? Why couldn’t he let this go? He had failed; he’d been knocked off a catwalk to his death. Why wouldn’t the Force help him to silence these searing memories?

_“How many times have I told you, Anakin? The droids around the Temple are not there for your own personal enjoyment. You frightened the life out of the kitchen staff when one of the serving droids started attacking innocent Initiates, who were only trying to get some food!”_

_“But Master, how do you know it was me? You’ve got no proof!”_

_“Anakin, how many other Jedi would bother tinkering with a droid?”_

_A sullen grumble answered him._

_“That’s what I thought.”_

“Go away,” he muttered, wrapping his arms around himself and curling into a ball. This wasn’t fair! Hadn’t he suffered enough? Would he be trapped in this forever, doomed to relive every memory until he completely lost his mind?

_“If you’re going to kill me, Anakin, then do so.”_

_An incredulous, if haughty, stare. “That’s it? You’ve exhausted yourself already? And here I thought the great Obi-Wan Kenobi would be more of a challenge!”_

_He shut his eyes and bowed his head. “Even if I managed to best you, Anakin, I couldn’t kill you.”_

“No,” he whispered, clamping his hands over his ears. “Don’t make me. Please don’t make me see; I can’t take it. Not again. No more!”

_“Anakin, you were my brother! You were my_ son _! And I loved you, more than you could ever realize!”_

_“Liar!” came the panicked retort. “You never cared! You’re a Jedi! Jedi don’t love!”_

_“But I did,” was the whispered reply. “I do. And I would’ve helped you, Anakin, no matter what it was. All you had to do was ask.”_

_“Liar! That’s all you do, is lie! You turned everyone against me! You’re the reason I killed them all! It was your fault, Obi-Wan!”_

All his fault…

“ _No!_ ” he screamed. “ _No more!_ ”

The Force began to shift around him, finally letting him shove the memories down, letting him lock them away, and killing the pain that lanced through his heart.

He turned as his surroundings grew lighter, whispers echoing through the dying blackness that encircled him.

_Where am I?_

Obi-Wan became aware of the lilting timber of voices before he was able to make out any words; he felt as though his ears were clogged with water.

He opened his eyes then, his lids slowly parting to reveal a blurry white ceiling, and he frowned before blinking, which helped bring things into focus.

It didn’t help the sudden nausea that descended and he uttered a soft groan before squeezing his eyes shut. The sick feeling subsided a little but he still felt as though he were spinning rapidly.

Where was he? What was going on?

Why wasn’t he dead?

“I think he’s awake!” a distantly familiar voice exclaimed, betraying the person’s excitement.

_Betray..._

_No,_ he told himself roughly, shoving those memories away before they could choke him completely. He had to focus on the present, to figure out what had happened and why he had survived…

“Obi-Wan?” asked another, even more familiar voice, the person’s tone tentative. “Obi-Wan, are you conscious?”

He peered upwards through barely opened eyelids, swallowing around the tightness in his throat. He called upon the Force weakly, wrapping it around himself like some kind of invisible armor, and stretched out with it, hunting down Ana- _Vader’s_ dark presence-

He found nothing.

Startled, Obi-Wan pulled back to himself. Had Vader plucked him from the lava and brought him to some kind of Healers? Or had the worker droids rescued him and commed for assistance? He hadn’t sensed any malicious intent, only a strong desire for him to be all right.

Surely, these weren’t Vader’s people then.

He turned his head slightly, his vision foggy and his head spinning. He siphoned as much nausea as he could into the Force, fighting down the bile that rose in his throat, and he struggled to focus. He could see one larger blurry figure sitting beside him, the person a tan haze, and a second, smaller figure sitting across from him.

He blinked when his gaze landed on the second person, his vision slowly focusing to reveal a little boy with shaggy, sun-bleached hair, deeply tanned skin, and the clearest, unmistakably blue eyes.

_Anakin._

He jerked upright without thought, and his forehead smashed against the shelving above the sleep couch.

“Sithing _kriffin’_ hells!” he shouted, clasping a hand to his abused forehead, and adding several nasty Huttese phrases he’d picked up over the years with Anakin as his apprentice. The young man had certainly uttered them enough, as he’d spent a good deal of his training frustrated with everything.

“ _Obi-Wan!_ ” the other figure exclaimed, his tone scandalized, and Obi-Wan mentally rolled his eyes. He wasn’t a child, after all, and he’d said worse things over the years.

The boy, however, was laughing.

“What’s so funny about this, Anakin? Do you enjoy seeing people in pain?” Obi-Wan snapped without thinking. “Haven’t I always told you to be respectful?”

Stunned silence met his statement, and he cracked open an eye to frown sternly at the boy.

“How…” the boy began, staring wide-eyed back at him. “How’d you know I’m Anakin?”

“What do you mean, how do I know?” Obi-Wan asked with a look of exasperation, but it melted swiftly to confusion when he realized something.

“What happened to you?” he asked tentatively, stretching out with the Force to verify that the person sitting before him was indeed who he thought. “Why do you look like a child?”

“What?” Anakin asked, and if his eyes could get any bigger, they did. “Why wouldn’t I be a kid? I’m only nine standard years old.”

“That’s absurd,” Obi-Wan shot back, frowning when he met with the boy’s familiar presence. “The last I recall, you were twenty-two standard years old. This is a joke, right? You’re playing a joke?”

“I’m afraid not, padawan,” the second figure began and Obi-Wan froze.

_No._

“Anakin is nine, not twenty-two, and if we had the proper medical facilities to prove it to you, I would,” the hauntingly familiar voice rumbled, and part of Obi-Wan shivered. “Now, would you mind explaining how you know who he is without me introducing you? And what makes you think he’s an adult?”

Obi-Wan turned his head slowly to the second figure, his heart pounding. He _knew_ that voice, as distinctive as it was, but what it suggested was impossible. He’d watched the man die, had held him in his final moments. There was no way he could be sitting beside him, unless he’d figured out a way to come back from the dead…

“And where’d you learn those Huttese phrases? I’ve only ever heard them from other podracers!” Anakin added but Obi-Wan gaped at the man sitting at his side.

He was older, possibly in his mid to late forties, with long, thick chestnut colored hair that had a hint of distinguished gray at the temples. Half of it had been tied back to keep it from falling in his face, which was sculpted into an expression of utter concern. His brow was furrowed, his deep blue eyes shimmering with worry, and his lips were pressed into a thin line behind a well-trimmed beard.

_Qui-Gon._

He looked exactly as Obi-Wan remembered, right down to the tiny scar on his chin, hidden by the beard, and Obi-Wan found he was shaking as he tried to push himself away.

This couldn’t be _real!_

“Obi-Wan, what’s the matter?” the man asked, his frown deepening, and he reached forward.

“Who are you?” he hissed, rolling off the sleep couch and backing away rapidly. “Qui-Gon is dead. I watched him die!”

In his haste, however, his heel caught on the hem of his robe. It knocked him off balance and he crashed to the ground.

“Obi-Wan, what’s gotten into you? Have you taken leave of your senses?” the man asked as Obi-Wan pushed himself up against the wall. “I’m not dead; can’t you feel me?”

_Feel?_

He jerked a little at that and gasped when he felt someone probing at the edges of his shields. The man was kneeling before him, reaching towards him before he could react, and he felt a sharp tug at a lock of hair he _swore_ he’d cut off years ago.

_My padawan braid._

“I think those visions have somehow distorted your sense of reality, padawan,” the man said, smiling gently as he sat back, and Obi-Wan could feel the intense gaze burning into him as he reached up to take the lock of hair in hand.

_I’m imagining this,_ he thought quietly. _There is just no other explanation._

Perhaps he was dead and this was the Force, part of him mused, with Qui-Gon waiting to meet him, to tell him that he hadn’t failed with Anakin, to tell Obi-Wan what he should’ve said when he’d been on his deathbed, to say how proud he was despite all the things that had gone so terribly wrong.

Whatever it was, it certainly _wasn’t_ real.

“Impossible,” he whispered as he stared at the braid with its familiar, colorful string tie, one he’d lost years ago.

_This can’t be,_ he thought, his fingers tracing the familiar plaits and touching the hard-earned beads. _This absolutely can’t be. I was falling to my death, not sleeping in some kind of cargo hold._

He must’ve lost what little remained of his sanity when Ana- _Vader_ had pushed him. This was some kind of twisted fantasy that his mind had come up with to keep him from feeling the pain of his death.

It wasn’t real; there was just _no way_ it could be.

He couldn’t take it; he had to find a mirror. He stood abruptly, his gaze darting around and taking in his surroundings. There was a door to his right that part of him remembered led to a ’fresher unit, though he didn’t bother to question how he knew. He leapt for it, palming it open and throwing himself inside. There, sitting above the basin was a small mirror, and Obi-Wan stared into it in shock.

“This shouldn’t be,” he muttered, touching the smooth surface of the mirror incredulously. A twenty-five year old stared back at him, looking just as dubious with his mouth hanging open slightly and his red-rimmed eyes roaming over his beard-free face. All the worry lines he’d earned over the years (and with Anakin as an apprentice he’d gained quite a few) had vanished, and his hair…

It was back to that awful padawan haircut, complete with silly little nerf-tail and fuzzy top. The braid he didn’t mind so much, though he supposed he’d have to get used to it flapping around again.

If he wasn’t just hallucinating.

“Obi-Wan?”

_I have lost my mind,_ he thought, his heart pounding in his ears. _The stress of my situation finally caught up with me, and I’ve gone crazy._

He sank to the tiled floor of the ’fresher, his hands still gripping the edges of the sink, and a high-pitched giggle erupted from his throat. He’d gone mad; there was no other answer. They all knew it would happen eventually, with Anakin trying his last nerve constantly and the threat of the Clone Wars heavy on his shoulders. He had often joked about it, telling people that if Anakin didn’t kill him somehow with all those foolish stunts, he’d be driven absolutely insane and carted off, twitching and babbling incoherently.

_To think he really did wind up killing me,_ he thought, his giggles bursting into full-fledged laughter that made him gasp for breath. _Again with the irony!_

His vision was blurring, though he couldn’t tell if it was from tears or from the way the room was spinning. He found himself tilting, trying to grab onto some sense of equilibrium as the room rose up around him, the colors rapidly blending with each other. Nothing was making sense!

That couldn’t really be Qui-Gon, he told himself, who was staring down at him, his blue eyes wide with worry.

“Obi-Wan?”

Now his mind was supplying his old Master’s voice, pitched just as he remembered. Would this never end?

His laughter grew worse and he twisted onto his back, clutching his sides. What kind of dream was this? Did the Force show him this as another joke, just like when it had Ana- _Vader_ toss him off that catwalk?

If it was, he was laughing now, to the point of pain.

“Obi-Wan, what’s the matter?”

It was that Qui-Gon apparition again, peering down at him through the thick, black haze that was swallowing everything. He started to reach for the specter, but darkness crept over it first, and he found his laughter dying as he fell…

Though to where, he knew not.

***


	4. Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Obi-Wan finally wakes and stays awake enough to have a chat with Qui-Gon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much to everyone for your kudos and comments! I'm so happy to hear how many people are happy to see this here.

***

Qui-Gon raced forward when Obi-Wan collapsed for the second time that day, his crazed laughter still echoing in the area. Qui-Gon reached forward to grab the hand that stretched upwards and knelt beside Obi-Wan as his mirth died, his blue-green eyes drifting shut.

Before any words could be exchanged, the young man lapsed into unconsciousness.

“Could visions really upset him like this?”

Qui-Gon looked up at Anakin, who had slid off the sleep couch to stand beside him in the narrow ’fresher unit. His young face wrinkled in a deep frown as he stared down at the Obi-Wan, and he glanced up when he felt Qui-Gon’s gaze, the boy’s blue eyes bright with concern.

“I wish I could say for certain, Ani,” he said before gathering Obi-Wan into his arms and moving him back onto the sleep couch. “His reaction is unlike any I’ve ever encountered. Yes, Obi-Wan has been disturbed by a vision before, but he’s never been…”

“Crazy?” Anakin supplied, raising his eyebrows, and Qui-Gon frowned in response.

“I was going to say hysterical.”

“Oh,” Anakin said before frowning as well. “Isn’t that pretty much the same thing?”

“Not necessarily,” Qui-Gon replied, reaching out to brush away the tear trails on Obi-Wan’s cheeks.

_What did you see, my padawan, that would trouble you so horribly?_ he thought, part of him clenching in fear. _What could make you so frantic?_

“What do you think happened? Why didn’t he know who you were?” Anakin asked, interrupting his thoughts. Qui-Gon leaned back after sitting down on the chair.

“I’m afraid I only have suspicions, Ani,” he said, frowning a little.

“But he said you were dead,” Anakin whispered, his eyes going wide. “Do you think he saw your death? Would that upset him like this?”

Qui-Gon paused at that. It fit, in a strange way, and he found himself hoping that Obi-Wan really wouldn’t be driven to delirium when it came time for Qui-Gon to die. Everyone died eventually, after all. It was part of living; being a Jedi meant accepting that. It was written right into their Code.

Qui-Gon certainly didn’t expect Obi-Wan to be happy in the event of his death; Qui-Gon knew the pain of loss all too well. But there had been something more to Obi-Wan’s reaction, something that didn’t fit with Anakin’s suggestion. Perhaps it was the strength of the shields Obi-Wan had pulled up; perhaps it was the way he had dissolved into that frenzy of confusion.

_Something in him has changed. He almost didn’t seem like Obi-Wan anymore,_ he thought, folding his arms over his chest and tapping a finger against his arm slightly.

“Doesn’t that scare you at all?” Anakin whispered. Qui-Gon glanced up, thinking for a moment as he worked to remember the question, and he gave the boy a small smile.

“Obi-Wan has had many visions over the years, Ani,” he said, watching the boy frown slightly. “And the one thing they’ve taught me is how mutable the future can be, so you’ll have to forgive me when I don’t start leaping at shadows.”

Anakin laughed a little, though Qui-Gon could sense a shroud of unease clinging to the boy, who continued to watch Obi-Wan.

“What’s wrong, Ani?” he asked, tilting his head to one side slightly, and the boy fidgeted a little. “Please don’t let this upset you. I’m sure that Obi-Wan is fine, and once he has a chance to recover, he’ll be back to normal.”

Anakin nodded a little, and though his disquiet lessened, Qui-Gon could tell he was still unnerved by something. Perhaps he somehow sensed that Qui-Gon had doubts about the statement, and knew Qui-Gon said it as much for his own comfort as for Anakin’s.

“How about I tell you more about the Jedi as we wait?” Qui-Gon suggested, trying to draw Anakin’s attention away from his fear. He knew he’d succeeded when the boy perked up with curiosity. “Was there anything you wanted to ask me? About training, perhaps?”

Anakin shrugged a little. “Not really. I want to know about everything.”

“I’m afraid I can only tell you so much, Ani,” Qui-Gon began, his tone a touch apologetic, but the boy merely shrugged again.

“Well, I’m not really a Jedi yet, right? So of course there’d be stuff you couldn’t share,” he said, making Qui-Gon smile slightly.

“Then I believe I’ll start where I left off, and explain how we identify Jedi,” he replied, watching as Anakin settled comfortably on the sleep couch, his face open and earnest as he listened intently. “Now, you see…”

Qui-Gon wasn’t sure how much later it was when the door chime sounded, interrupting their conversation. He glanced at his wrist chrono and blinked when he saw a standard hour and a half had passed. Qui-Gon looked up then, flicking the door open with a small wave of his hand.

He blinked inwardly when he saw Padmé standing before them again, a gentle smile on her face.

“Good afternoon, Master Jinn,” she said, bowing respectfully. “I’m sorry to trouble you, but I thought I should tell you that we’ll be adjusting the ship’s sleep cycle to match Coruscant’s in a few minutes, and that I found a place for Anakin to sleep.”

“Thank you, Handmaiden,” he said, returning her smile. “You wouldn’t happen to know what time it is there, do you?”

“Candidly, no,” she said, rather apologetically. “Check at a terminal in a little bit and it should tell you. In the mean time, would you mind if I showed Ani where he’ll be sleeping?”

“Go right ahead,” Qui-Gon replied, glancing at Anakin, who slid from the sleep couch and took Padmé’s outstretched hand.

“I think you’ll like it, Ani,” she said as they turned to step out into the hall. “It’s a comfortable couch in the maintenance bay, with all sorts of droids lying around that you can tinker with if you want to. Artoo is staying there as well, so you’ll have some company.”

“Wizard,” Anakin said, grinning up at her before waving at Qui-Gon. “I’ll be back in a little bit, okay?”

Qui-Gon nodded as they disappeared down the hall, and he flicked the door shut.

He rose then, pulling off the cloak he’d been wearing as part of his disguise as a Tatooine moisture farmer, and he folded it up before placing it on his sleep couch. He wanted to change out of the disguise completely, as his Jedi tunics were much more comfortable and didn’t scratch at his skin the way these did. He hadn’t done so already because he couldn’t bring himself to leave Obi-Wan’s side until the young man proved he was capable of recognizing his surroundings.

_Considering his reaction, I don’t think it would be prudent to give him the opportunity to wander off,_ he thought, grimacing faintly.

The soft rustling of cloth made him turn, and he smiled when he saw Obi-Wan blink his eyes open, allowing them to focus on the cabinets overhead.

“Good afternoon, padawan,” Qui-Gon said, sitting back in his chair as Obi-Wan’s gaze slowly drifted to him. “Are you feeling better now? Or do you still feel confused?”

Obi-Wan said nothing; he merely stared at Qui-Gon, horror stealing across his features.

“Obi-Wan?” Qui-Gon asked, his smile fading to a frown, and he reached out to touch his apprentice’s shoulder.

Obi-Wan jerked away then, his gaze narrowing, and Qui-Gon could sense he’d come to some kind of conclusion.

“Where am I?” he asked quietly, and Qui-Gon sighed a little before humoring him.

“You are on a ship headed for Coruscant,” he said, watching as Obi-Wan internalized the words. “We just left Tatooine, where we’d been marooned in our attempt to bring Queen Amidala to safety. Surely you remember this?”

Obi-Wan ignored the question, however, and stood. He watched Qui-Gon for a moment, as though he were waiting for some kind of reproof for the action, his gaze scrutinizing every small movement Qui-Gon made.

When none came, Obi-Wan began drifting around the edges of the room, running his hands along the back wall as he studied his surroundings. His eyes took in every possible detail, and Qui-Gon had a sneaking suspicion that he was searching for weaknesses.

As for _why_ he was doing so, Qui-Gon had no idea.

“I take it this is Vader’s ship then? Did he bring me here?” Obi-Wan asked as he turned to face Qui-Gon, folding his arms over his chest. His tone was as hard as durasteel, and Qui-Gon drew back at the frosty expression on his apprentice’s face. “I’m not going to tell you anything, you know, so you might as well kill me. I’m not going to betray what’s left of the Jedi.”

Qui-Gon froze at that, unable to understand Obi-Wan’s meaning. “Who is Vader?” he asked. “And what do you mean, betray what’s left of the Jedi? Nothing has happened to them, to us.”

Obi-Wan favored him with a tight-lipped smile, the young man’s face darkening with the expression. “I suppose I ought to congratulate you on your impersonation,” Obi-Wan replied, and Qui-Gon blinked. “How much did they pay you to completely change your face? It would fool anyone who knew Qui-Gon well, if they weren’t Force-sensitive. You even have his voice right.”

“Obi-Wan, what are you talking about?” Qui-Gon asked, dumbfounded. “What makes you think I’m not myself?”

“Or are you a clone? I suppose that would be possible, as Vader did have access to the technology,” Obi-Wan continued, ignoring Qui-Gon’s questions. “What are your orders? Did Vader actually think I’d fall for this? Did he think I would spill Jedi secrets to my former Master?”

Qui-Gon began shaking his head, unsure of how to answer.

“You think you’re some kind of prisoner?” he asked at last, watching Obi-Wan settle himself, the Force coiling around him tightly.

“I thought so, though I’m not sure what kind of captors would give their prisoner a lightsaber, especially if he were a Jedi,” Obi-Wan said, pulling the weapon from his side. “Do tell Vader that he’s done a wonderful job on his research for once. He remembered I lost this lightsaber years ago and had a replica made to complete the illusion.”

Obi-Wan met Qui-Gon’s gaze, his blue-green eyes piercing. “But I doubt it works.”

“Obi-Wan, of course it works,” Qui-Gon said, watching the young man turn the hilt over and over. “What would make you think you’d lost it?”

“I haven’t lost it yet at this point in time, so you wouldn’t know anything about it,” Obi-Wan said, his fingers drifting over the cool metal of the weapon. “They must’ve found a way to give you most of Qui-Gon’s memories.”

Qui-Gon gave a small frown of impatience, but it vanished when Obi-Wan looked down into the blade-end of his lightsaber.

“What are you _doing_?” he demanded, grabbing Obi-Wan’s wrist and yanking the weapon away from his face. “You should know not to do that!”

Obi-Wan merely raised an eyebrow, his gaze otherwise blank. “Am I allowed to test it? Would you have a problem if I did?”

“So long as you don’t start cutting through walls, you may do so,” Qui-Gon said warily, letting go of Obi-Wan’s wrist and stepping back to give him space. “Remember we’re on a ship, and I doubt you want to be responsible for killing us all by puncturing the hull.”

Obi-Wan raised both eyebrows at that before thumbing the on-switch, and Qui-Gon started when the bright azure blade shot forth.

Obi-Wan’s brow knit as he tested the weapon, waving it back and forth carefully. He gripped the hilt with both hands, spinning as best he could in the limited area with a grace that made Qui-Gon blink inwardly. He knew his apprentice’s fighting style, and the form before him lacked the subdued choppiness it normally held.

Obi-Wan gasped then, the weapon falling from his fingers and deactivating just before it clattered against the floor. Qui-Gon frowned faintly, reaching out to touch the young man’s shoulder in concern, but Obi-Wan jerked away, staring at him.

“That’s impossible,” Obi-Wan whispered, his mask slipping slightly to reveal a flicker of alarm.

“What’s impossible?” Qui-Gon asked, retrieving the dropped weapon, and Obi-Wan shook his head slightly, shadows flickering in his eyes.

“I don’t know how, but that is the lightsaber I lost, right down to the slight imbalance I couldn’t seem to fix. There are no technical drawings for it; even if Vader somehow managed to get an image of that weapon, he wouldn’t have been able to duplicate that,” Obi-Wan said, his voice uneven, a small shiver shaking his frame.

“Obi-Wan, stop this,” Qui-Gon said, taking a step forward and frowning when his apprentice took a step back, drawing himself up. “You had a vision of some sort just as we left Tatooine, and collapsed. You’ve been unconscious for the past few hours.”

Obi-Wan remained silent at the words, his lips tightening as he considered them. Qui-Gon could sense him reaching gently with the Force, internalizing their meaning.

Obi-Wan sank to the floor as shock dawned across his features.

“You aren’t lying,” he whispered, staring straight ahead, and Qui-Gon moved to sit before him, holding out the dropped lightsaber.

“Do you want further proof, padawan?” Qui-Gon asked, tapping at Obi-Wan’s shields through the bond. The young man looked up at him in response, startled. “You know my Force-presence. Examine it. Stretch out through the training bond. Use your feelings, Obi-Wan.”

He clasped Obi-Wan’s shoulder then, meeting his apprentice’s stunned gaze. “ _This_ is your reality, padawan. Prove it to yourself if you must.”

Obi-Wan shut his eyes then, and Qui-Con could feel him probing tentatively along the edges of their bond. He shut his eyes as well, lowering as many shields as possible and letting himself drift through their link. He was dimly aware of Obi-Wan’s gasp when they touched mentally, and he felt something shift in his apprentice.

_-You_ are _Qui-Gon,-_ came the weak thought, and it strengthened the tattered bond. _–You are my Master.-_

_-I am,-_ he replied before drawing back and opening his eyes. He found Obi-Wan staring at him, his mouth hanging open in disbelief, and Qui-Gon raised his eyebrows when Obi-Wan reached up to touch a lock of his hair.

“Believe me now?” he asked, and Obi-Wan drew back before nodding once, though his gaze remained distant. Qui-Gon sighed a little, but drew back as well, watching his apprentice carefully.

“It’s still impossible,” he heard Obi-Wan whisper, and Qui-Gon watched as the young man’s form began trembling.

Obi-Wan was fighting something; Qui-Gon could see it on his face. The mask was cracking steadily as tears welled in his eyes and he buried his face in his hands, his shoulders shaking.

“Padawan?” Qui-Gon whispered, hesitant to touch Obi-Wan, considering his previous reactions.

“This can’t be…” Obi-Wan whispered, shuddering. “I failed; I _fell_. I wasn’t… and everyone…”

Qui-Gon watched, greatly alarmed as Obi-Wan choked on a sob, curling himself into a ball as tears leaked down his cheeks. Grief wailed through the bond, seeping out from behind even the toughest of shields, and it made Qui-Gon’s heart ache painfully.

“Obi-Wan, what happened?” he asked quietly as he wrapped his arms around his apprentice. “What could you possibly have seen to make you this upset?”

Qui-Gon received no response, and he fell silent, letting Obi-Wan shiver and weep as emotions poured out of him. Qui-Gon had no choice but to weather the storm, making the sorrow, horror, and a deep wound of betrayal that passed through the bond diffuse quietly into the Force.

“I failed,” Obi-Wan forced out, clinging to Qui-Gon, who could sense that he was calling on the Force to help take away some of the pain. “I _failed._ ”

“What do you mean?” Qui-Gon asked, resting his chin on Obi-Wan’s fuzzy head. “How did you fail?”

_I lost everything,_ came the unshielded thought, though Qui-Gon had a feeling he wasn’t supposed to hear. _I was betrayed by someone I once trusted with my life…_

“What?” Qui-Gon whispered, freezing, his eyes going wide, and he was hit with an image of Obi-Wan kneeling before a young man, who held a blue lightsaber at his throat.

_What is this?_

Smoke curled around them, the young man’s sneer sending chills racing down Qui-Gon’s spine. He could feel the sickening pain that welled in Obi-Wan, his heart heavy with anguish as he stared up at the young man, his blue-green eyes begging the other not to act.

Qui-Gon’s fingers dug into the coarse fabric of Obi-Wan’s robe as the image faded, and he tightened his grip on his apprentice, shutting his eyes.

“My poor Obi-Wan…” he whispered, reaching out through the bond to try and help disperse the suffering he could feel. “How could visions do this to you? How could you think they were real?”

_-…Master?-_ came the tentative thought, Obi-Wan shuddering against him.

“I’m here, padawan,” he said softly, emphasizing his words vocally as well as through the bond. “It’s all right.”

Obi-Wan drew back at that, shuddering and wiping at his eyes with the back of his hands, though his tears had stopped falling. His gaze trained on the floor as he strove to quiet himself completely, and Qui-Gon let his hands drop to his lap as he tilted his head slightly to one side.

“Are you feeling any better?” he asked and watched Obi-Wan nod once.

“I’m sorry I was unable to control myself,” Obi-Wan said softly, shifting away even further before Qui-Gon could stop him. Their bond, which had been one of the strongest, brightest links in the entire Order, now lay shrouded in darkness, choked by the amount of shields Obi-Wan had tossed up around himself.

“It’s all right,” Qui-Gon said quietly, sitting back and giving Obi-Wan a moment to collect himself as he pondered a way to reopen things between them. What had happened to the strength in the trust they’d shared?

“Do you want to tell me what you saw?” he asked after a moment, and Obi-Wan’s gaze flicked up to him silently. “What did you see that would make you so upset?”

Obi-Wan didn’t answer for a while, and Qui-Gon sat patiently, returning the uncharacteristically cool gaze he received. He could sense Obi-Wan thinking, considering something.

When he finally spoke, the words made Qui-Gon’s mouth fall open.

“Master,” Obi-Wan said, looking away, “I’d like to meditate on this first, to see if I can put it away without bothering you.”

“You’re joking,” Qui-Gon replied, his eyes widening. “Obi-Wan, you just collapsed twice from whatever this is, and you were absolutely panicked the first time you awoke.”

The young man gave no reaction and Qui-Gon leaned forward slightly. “You are my apprentice and it is my job to guide you when I feel you are incapable of doing so yourself. I am helping, Obi-Wan, whether you like it or not.”

“Then if I collapse a third time, I will have no excuse,” Obi-Wan replied easily, his tone holding none of the heat Qui-Gon would’ve expected, and it made him stare. What had happened to the recklessness and the carefully controlled temper that Obi-Wan would normally display?

In fact, part of Qui-Gon mused, he sounded as calm as a Council Master when mediating an argument.

“Master, I just want to try and recover my equilibrium on my own,” Obi-Wan said, making him start a little. “If I am unable to work through it without help, I will let you know.”

Qui-Gon clenched his jaw, shifting a little as Obi-Wan watched him silently.

“You did say I was ready for the trials, Master,” Obi-Wan said then. “Will you be able to help me when I’m a Knight?”

Qui-Gon frowned at that. “I don’t recall telling you that,” he said, but Obi-Wan remained unruffled.

“You’ve thought it though, I’m sure,” his apprentice said smoothly, and Qui-Gon’s frown deepened when he couldn’t deny it. “At least let me try once on my own?”

Qui-Gon heaved a deep breath, trying to purge himself of the frustration that began to well up inside him, but the door opened before he could respond.

“…and that’s when… oh! You’re awake!”

Qui-Gon turned to see Anakin and Padmé standing in the doorway, their attention jumping instantly to Obi-Wan.

“How are you feeling, Padawan Kenobi?” Padmé asked, smiling at him, and Qui-Gon could see that he’d frozen. “You gave everyone quite a scare when you fell unconscious earlier. We were afraid that the assassin who attacked us had done something.”

“I’m all right now,” he said quietly, and Qui-Gon frowned a little as he watched Obi-Wan bow his head. “Forgive me for causing any trouble.”

“It’s all right,” Padmé said, though her smile seemed to falter with her confusion, and she turned to Anakin. “I’m afraid the queen can’t spare me for much longer, Ani. Shall I see you with the others for evening meal?”

“Yeah!” the boy replied enthusiastically, and grinned as she bowed to them and left.

“So what happened?” Anakin asked once the door had slid shut and both turned to find Obi-Wan kneeling in the corner, his eyes shut. Qui-Gon frowned in frustration, half tempted to yank on his padawan’s braid, but it was rude to startle someone out of meditation.

_He knows this,_ Qui-Gon thought with a flash of irritation. _That’s why he started before I could pester him further._

“What’s he doing?” Anakin whispered, watching Obi-Wan with a faint frown, and Qui-Gon sighed.

“He’s meditating to recover his balance, so to speak,” he replied, standing. “Those visions seem to have thrown off every sense of reality he had, so he’s working through what was shown to him in an order to return to normal.”

“Oh,” Anakin said, blinking in slight surprise. “So he’s okay, then?”

“I certainly hope so,” Qui-Gon muttered, starting for the ’fresher. “I’m going to clean up, Ani. Do you mind keeping an eye on Obi-Wan? If he collapses again, yell for me.”

“Will do.”

Qui-Gon sighed again as he gathered a change of clothes and palmed the door open. It seemed he was going to have to wait for Obi-Wan to finish whatever he was doing before he would get any answers out of the young man, but that didn’t bother him as much, considering the other events of the day. Obi-Wan’s reaction was Qui-Gon’s main cause for concern, and he just couldn’t begin to imagine what would make Obi-Wan so distrustful.

_And who is this Vader he spoke of?_ he thought as the door slid shut behind him. He knew no one by that name and the way Obi-Wan had said it, it sounded as if the person was an enemy.

“Be patient,” he told himself. Only Obi-Wan could answer his questions, so he’d wait until his padawan decided to come out of meditation.

Then he’d start asking until everything began to make sense.

***


	5. Chapter Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Obi-Wan can't sleep, and he runs into a familiar face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted on Fanfiction.net in 2007.

***

Obi-Wan couldn’t sleep.

He’d tried everything, from counting backwards in Narlanian, which had the longest possible words for their numbers, to breathing exercises, trying to trick his body to sleep, to rolling incessantly. Part of him was surprised that Qui-Gon hadn’t picked up on his insomnia, but another part of him was relieved. He didn’t want to answer his Master’s questions with another half-hearted response, which he’d been doing all day.

He had spent most of the time since he’d awoken in meditation, trying to figure out what had happened to him. He’d finally emerged several hours later with the sobering knowledge that against all rational logic, he was indeed thirteen years in the past, his body reverted to its twenty-five year old self. He’d barely dared to believe it, but the Force, unfortunately, didn’t lie.

Qui-Gon had been trying to talk to him ever since, to ask him about what he had seen, but Obi-Wan had been able to give him the impression that everything was fine. It had taken quite a bit of effort on his part, as he certainly didn’t feel like a twenty-five year old padawan, but he’d earned himself a reprieve by promising to discuss it once they had returned to Coruscant.

Qui-Gon had held up a finger then, his eyes darkening from the seriousness in his gaze. “I’ll let this go Obi-Wan,” he had said quietly before they left to join the others for their evening meal. “But only for now. And if I get the slightest hint that your focus is being disrupted again, you are sharing, even if I have to break down your shields myself.”

Obi-Wan had swallowed at that, the part of him that would always be Qui-Gon’s apprentice quailing.

“Am I clear?” Qui-Gon had asked, raising his eyebrows, and Obi-Wan had nodded.

A loud snore interrupted his thoughts, shattering the silence and making Obi-Wan groan.

_Those snores alone could convince me that this is the past,_ he thought, stuffing the pillow over his head. He’d never met anyone in his life that could make such a racket while remaining fast asleep, oblivious to the irritation they were causing.

His Master had broken his nose some time during his life, and Obi-Wan knew it was the source of the man’s wretched snoring. He remembered the first night they’d shared an apartment, how the sound had startled him awake and he’d been convinced that the walls were going to shake apart around him. After enduring it silently for an entire week, with Qui-Gon wondering why his new apprentice was looking more and more worse-for-wear, he decided that something had to be done.

He’d plotted revenge.

Now, he knew the Code backwards and forwards and knew that a Jedi must never take revenge, so he mentally renamed it, calling it ‘His Plan to Teach Master Qui-Gon a True Lesson’, and studied all types of stealth shields that could be used to trick a Force-sensitive. He’d done it on his own, fully realizing the consequences should someone discover what he was up to, but he’d been a possessed thirteen year old, absolutely determined to find a satisfying way to regain his normal sleep habits.

After about a month of hard work and trying out all the mental shielding he’d learned, he put his plan to the final test. When his beloved Master started up with the miserable snoring, Obi-Wan started snoring himself, in nearly an exact replica of the horrible sound. He felt a flash of delirious joy when he sensed his Master jolt awake, startled by the racket, and heard a low groan echo along their bond. His shielding had worked well enough in making Qui-Gon believe he was asleep and not purposely antagonizing his Master, though he had a feeling that was because the older Jedi was still half-asleep and not because Obi-Wan was particularly skilled.

He’d kept it up the routine for a few weeks, until his Master apparently discovered soundproofing shields, which not only kept his fake snores from being heard, but also kept almost all sound out. Part of Obi-Wan had felt slightly irked, as his Master had found a way to thwart him, but his goal was accomplished and he had his peaceful nights back.

Eventually he’d found a way to “program” his body to snore at night (which was a simple, modified Force-command), and he’d done so purely out of gleeful revenge. He’d certainly paid for it, however, because he hadn’t found a way to reverse it. That was until he’d been knighted, and given access to texts that had previously been forbidden.

Soundproofing wasn’t going to help him tonight, though. Something in him felt restless and uneasy, and no matter how much he’d meditated on it, he couldn’t begin to make sense of it. The Force was being strangely silent on _why_ it had sent him back in time, only telling him that it _had_. It had curled around him, helped him release the grief that lingered, and though he continued to shudder whenever he thought of the future he knew, he was able to function without giving his Master any cause for further alarm.

Because he knew that at even the slightest hint of something troubling him, Qui-Gon would make good on his threat, and batter his way past every shield, no matter how much pain it caused Obi-Wan.

_Let’s hope it never comes to that,_ he thought, tightening the pillow around his head when the snoring grew louder. _Qui-Gon is very much my father, but how would I begin to explain? If he knew the truth, if he saw any of my memories of Vader..._ Obi-Wan shivered. _I don’t know how he’d react. I don’t know how the_ Council _would react, and I don’t think I even want to know._

That brought him to an important decision. He knew of Anakin’s fall; would he do anything to try and stop it? _Should_ he do anything, or could he, for that matter? Had the Force sent him back so that he could fix his mistakes, or repeat them in a completely different fashion? Was he doomed to watch the destruction of the Jedi a second time around, to see his dearest friends torn to shreds by a lightsaber, to stand by helplessly as things spiraled into chaos all over again?

After all, he’d done his best the first time around, and look where that got him: one fallen apprentice and a flaming, painful death. What could he possibly do differently with this second chance, if it really was that?

Part of him wanted to wake Qui-Gon up right there and then, to talk to him about everything and ask his advice. He had to fight to keep his body still, as it itched to rise and shake the man awake, but his will finally won out, and the desire faded. He couldn’t talk to Qui-Gon; at least not until he was certain of his own feelings on the matter. He wasn’t completely convinced that this was all some elaborate hoax, no matter what the Force told him. His Force-sense had been tricked before, and he wasn’t about to take any chances.

He still didn’t know what he was going to do though; he still wasn’t sure if his actions would make the slightest difference. Could he stand watching Anakin fall a second time? Should he… should he end it all now, before it had the chance to even begin?

_Listen to yourself!_ Part of him screamed. _What are you talking about? Murdering an innocent boy simply because of something that may or may not happen? What you’re suggesting is absolutely insane!_

The voice was right, and he knew it. He could no more kill Anakin than he could cut off his own foot, no matter how much he tried to rationalize the act. Obi-Wan had tried to put aside his emotions when facing the Jedi-turned-Sith, with the proof of Anakin’s crimes staring him in the face, and he’d been unable even to beat his former apprentice, let alone kill him.

So if he couldn’t kill the boy, what could he do? There was nothing, and he knew it.

_What is this? What is wrong with you, Kenobi? When have you ever given up so easily?_ Part of him snarled. _For someone who prided themselves on their resilience, you certainly aren’t doing a good job of showing it. Stop wallowing, and_ do _something!_

_But what?_ He shouted back, huffing in impatience. What could he possibly do to change things?

_Stop being such a narrow-minded_ Jedi _and think! There’s always_ something _you can do. Begin by accepting that this is the past and work from there! Take this as an excellent opportunity to fix your mistakes, to keep that horrible future from happening! Can you really, in good conscience, let everything unravel a second time? You’d be persecuted if you did!_

If he really had been granted the chance to undo his mistakes, how could he fix them when he didn’t know what they were?

_You still have to try,_ part of him said, finally calmer. _You’re letting your fear of failing all over again stop you from doing what you need to do, and you know it. So stop arguing with yourself and start thinking._

Obi-Wan heaved a heavy sigh, sinking against the thick cushion of the sleep couch. His better side was right; even if this was some hoax, he couldn’t let that stop him from trying to undo his failure.

There was only one problem that he could think of, though, if he accepted that he was living his past again.

He had no idea why Anakin had decided to become a Sith, so he had no idea where to even begin to counter it.

So think, he told himself! Things had been so murky in the end that he probably shouldn’t have been as shocked and upset as he had been upon learning of Anakin’s betrayal, but he just couldn’t begin to understand what might’ve motivated his former apprentice.

_I was his Master,_ Obi-Wan raged silently, his fingers digging into the pillow and the familiar, sickening grief rising in his throat. _I should have seen. I should have_ known _._

He’d been down this road before, though, and he knew where it led. He hadn’t seen anything. He had sensed something, of course, and been concerned for Anakin, who had been severely lacking in balance. He had arrogantly assumed, however, that the young man would fall back on his teachings to give him the footing he needed.

And when he hadn’t…

_Then something was wrong with the teachings._

That sudden thought shook him to his core, chills skittering down his spine and dancing along his skin.

He felt sick, so very sick.

_It was my fault._ My _fault! I’m the one who couldn’t teach properly, the one who refused to see what was so obvious. I should have given him to Master Yoda instead of taking it upon myself to do anything when I was barely a Knight!_

So where had he gone wrong, then? Had it been his sheer lack of experience?

_No,_ he thought, dismissing that idea. Many other Knights, some even younger than he, had taken apprentices, and they didn’t have nearly the amount of training that Obi-Wan had been given under Qui-Gon. None of them had failed as he had done.

So again, where had he gone wrong? Where had he blundered so badly that the young man had turned to the Dark Side for answers?

_I’ve been mulling over it for what feels like hours,_ he thought with an inner grumble. _I knew I should’ve meditated on this as well, and I certainly am not getting any peace and quiet here._

With that thought, and another particularly loud snore from Qui-Gon, he finally pushed himself up, mindful of the cabinets overhead this time around. He pulled back the privacy curtain and rolled off the sleep couch, groping in the dark for his boots. He found them and shoved them onto his feet before feeling his way to the door and sliding out into the dimly lit hallway. He drew a deep breath, straightening his rumpled tunics and running his fingers through his hair (while cursing how short it had become), and set off down the hall, being mindful to keep his movements quiet lest he wake some light sleeper.

Obi-Wan was unsure of just where he was headed; he let his feet lead the way, taking what he thought were utterly random twists and turns through the corridors of the ship.

When he reached his destination, he had to wonder if the Force hadn’t guided him in some way.

He mentally kicked himself. The Force was always guiding him; wasn’t that part of being a Jedi?

_Anakin._

His feet had led him to a maintenance bay, with an astro-droid he recognized as Artoo-Detoo powered down in the corner. Jar Jar Binks, the Gungan Qui-Gon had rescued all those years ago (but not really, he told himself, since it had happened only a few weeks ago), lay on a bench beside it, his feet propped up on the droid’s dome, and his blanket barely covering his torso.

Obi-Wan merely brushed over those details; his gaze had been drawn instantly to the little figure huddled in the corner of a couch. A thin, brown blanket was tucked around his shoulders, his arms were wrapped around himself, and his face had been buried against his knees until Obi-Wan’s entrance.

His head had shot up when he realized that someone was watching him, and he looked away in embarrassment when he saw who it was.

“He-hello,” Anakin whispered, his voice cracking ever so slightly, and part of Obi-Wan twisted sharply.

_He’s been crying,_ Obi-Wan thought as he watched the boy swipe furiously at his eyes, easily sensing the shame Anakin felt at being caught. Part of him wanted desperately to comfort the child, to scoop him up into his embrace and ease the pain he could sense, but the rest of him was frozen, tempted to run as fast as he could in the opposite direction.

“Is…” he began, the word slipping from his lips before he could stop it, and Anakin’s gaze flicked to him briefly, reflecting the spark of curiosity Obi-Wan could sense.

“You’re up awfully late,” Obi-Wan said at last, finally settling on something good and neutral. He hoped to make Anakin think he hadn’t seen the boy’s tears, so as to lessen some of the humiliation he could feel coiling in the other.

“So’re you,” Anakin responded, his voice still shaky, but definitely bolder. He sniffled loudly before wiping his runny nose on the back of his sleeve, and part of Obi-Wan quailed at the familiar movement. How many times had he been after Anakin about that? How many tunics had been ruined because the boy was too lazy to find a tissue?

“Don’t off-worlders ever sleep? I saw Padmé walk by a little while ago. Or is it just a Jedi thing?”

Yes, this certainly was the Anakin he remembered. Even though Obi-Wan had seen him in a vulnerable position, he bounced back before anyone had realized what had happened. He was the one who gained strength in the worst situations, and Obi-Wan had to fight the part of him that had begun sobbing.

This just couldn’t be, he thought. Surely something had to be different… how else was he going to stop this little boy from becoming a complete monster?

“I think it must be an off-worlder thing, if you saw a handmaiden up at this hour,” Obi-Wan said, struggling to keep his tone light, and he took a tentative step into the bay. “But I do know many Jedi who are notorious insomniacs, me being one of them, so perhaps it’s a little of both.”

A soft laugh answered him, making his heart leap into his throat. It was the laugh he remembered, the one that always preceded a comment somewhere along the lines of, “Master, you’ve got the strangest sense of humor.”

“Mister Obi-Wan, that’s a weird way to tell a joke,” Anakin said, and Obi-Wan shut his eyes, steeling himself against the tears he could feel forming.

A Jedi was calm, he told himself. Emotions did not rule them, no matter what the situation.

“You think so?” he could hear himself saying. “You’re the first to say so. I wonder if people have been laughing at me behind my back then, if I really do joke strangely.”

Another, stronger laugh made him open his eyes, and he caught the brief smile that followed it.

“But who could laugh at a Jedi?” Anakin asked. “They’d be too afraid of you throwing them into walls or something.”

“Well, first of all, you’re laughing,” he said, and Anakin’s eyes widened. “But don’t worry. I don’t toss people into walls simply because they’re laughing at me. They have to give me a much better reason, and even if they did, I doubt I could bring myself to do so.”

“Why not?” Anakin asked, his arms wrapping around his knees, and Obi-Wan found he was standing near the other end of the small bench. How his feet had carried him there without him noticing was a mystery.

“Well, to start with I’m not allowed to. The Code I live by doesn’t allow me to act from anger,” he said and watched Anakin frown a little as he processed that information. “And besides, would I really want to go around tossing people into walls? It’s such a waste of time and energy, if you think about it.”

Anakin laughed again, the happiness behind it slamming into Obi-Wan, but oddly enough, it brought him comfort.

He frowned inwardly at that; why had Anakin’s presence, which had caused him pain only a few moments ago, suddenly started soothing him?

_Just trust it,_ part of him whispered. _Treat it as a chance to start over. Didn’t you find yourself wishing that you’d been warmer to him when you’d first met? Hadn’t you thought the beginning of your apprenticeship could’ve gone smoother if you’d only taken the time to get to know him as Qui-Gon had?_

“So’re you feeling better?” Anakin asked, bringing Obi-Wan from his thoughts. “Mister Qui-Gon seemed really worried about you, when he couldn’t figure out what was wrong, and to tell the truth…” Anakin drew a deep breath. “It was a little weird seeing him like that. I mean…”

“My Master does a very good job of appearing unruffled, even during the worst of times,” Obi-Wan said with a smile. “He rarely drops that Jedi mask, as some call it, but when he does, you know something is really wrong. Qui-Gon seems like the type who could fix anything, so when he can’t, it’s a bit of a shock.”

“You’re tellin’ me!” Anakin said with a familiar eye roll, one that never failed in making Obi-Wan grin. “After the race, Padmé told me that even when I stalled out at the beginning he didn’t lose his cool. She said that she’d been terrified more than half the time, but Mister Qui-Gon, he’d told her to relax and have faith.”

“That sounds like my Master,” Obi-Wan said, sharing a smile with Anakin. “He certainly excels in projecting the calm Jedi are known for. Not everyone is so capable.”

Anakin frowned faintly. “Well, I’ve only met you and Mister Qui-Gon, and if you guys are anything like the rest of the Jedi, I’m sure they’ll all be perfect at it.”

“We do try, some harder than others,” Obi-Wan said. “But don’t go spreading that around the Temple. If Master Yoda found out, my shins would be bruised beyond belief.”

“What?”

Obi-Wan nearly smacked his forehead with the palm of his hand. “I’m sorry, Anakin, I forgot. Master Yoda is a Jedi Master who resembles, if you’ll pardon me, a troll. He’s probably even shorter than you, with green skin, and he carries this walking stick that he uses to hit people with. He also has a saying about trying; how it doesn’t really exist. Either you do something, or you don’t; that kind of thing.”

“Hm,” Anakin said, frowning as he worked over everything Obi-Wan had said. “He sounds pretty mean, if you ask me.”

“He can be, but he grows on you,” Obi-Wan told him. “He’s also one of the strongest Jedi.”

“He’d have to be, to get away with hitting people,” Anakin grumbled, and Obi-Wan surprised himself by laughing.

“Well, to finally answer your original question, yes, I am feeling better. Still a little shaken, but definitely better.”

Anakin tilted his head slightly to one side, in a manner that Obi-Wan knew foretold that he was about to ask something. “What’d you see then? It musta been awful, if it messed you up as bad as it did.”

“It wasn’t all bad,” Obi-Wan answered, trying to avoiding answering the real question. “There was some good to it as well; it just ended poorly.”

“So you could tell what was going on? It all made perfect sense to you as you saw it happen?” Anakin asked, leaning forward in an expression of eagerness. His eyes had locked themselves on Obi-Wan, who began squishing the panic it instilled. “You were able to tell what it meant and stuff?”

“Well, yes,” he answered slowly, unsure of where the line of questioning was heading. “But don’t think that’s a typical response to a… a vision.” He might as well call it that; it made things easier to deal with. “Most of the visions I have are mere fragments, completely disjointed and without any clues behind them. Whether it’s good or bad, I normally have no way to know how to avoid it or make it happen.”

“Hm,” Anakin said again, sitting back heavily, and Obi-Wan found himself leaning forward, his head dipping in an attempt to recapture the boy’s gaze.

“Why do you ask?”

He knew the answer before he’d finished his question. Anakin was the most powerful Force-sensitive the Temple had ever seen; he was having visions of his own.

“Do you want to tell me about it?” Obi-Wan asked quietly, every part of him waiting on tenterhooks. The Anakin he remembered had barely shared anything; his nightmares he might share occasionally, but he kept his visions to himself or sought out Master Yoda for guidance.

He simply hadn’t trusted Obi-Wan with anything that he kept close to his heart.

“You’ll… you’ll laugh,” Anakin said, his voice small as he curled in on himself.

“Pa-” He caught himself just in time, wincing inwardly. Not calling Anakin as he was accustomed to was going to take a lot of effort on his part; it was so easy to slip. “What makes you think I’ll laugh?”

Anakin shrugged, not looking up, but Obi-Wan found himself drawing courage he never knew he had. If this had really been a situation between him and the Anakin he remembered, he would’ve backed down at this stage, choosing to let the boy alone and assuming he’d come to him if he truly had a problem.

_I made too many assumptions,_ he thought with chagrin. _Perhaps that was why Anakin never really spoke to me; I never showed him I would listen and care about what I was hearing._

Well, time to counter that then.

“Anakin,” he said softly, crouching before the boy without thought, and gently touching a hand to a tiny knee. “I give you my word, as a Jedi, that I will never laugh at anything you say.”

The boy looked up, his eyes shining, and Obi-Wan swallowed around the tightening of his throat, trying to smile. “Unless, of course, you meant it to be laughed at, but those situations don’t count.”

His statement succeeded in making the boy smile, and he returned it. “So will you share your vision with me?”

“I…” Anakin bit his lip and Obi-Wan felt his heart leap unexpectedly. “I saw Padmé, and she was leading a big army into darkness,” the boy whispered, and Obi-Wan felt that part of him was singing with joy. He’d succeeded in an area he’d failed in before; Anakin was talking to him!

“And?” he prompted, never taking his gaze from the boy.

“Well, it was scary, you know? Because Padmé told me she doesn’t like fighting, that her people are peaceful. So why would she be leading an army?” Anakin asked, looking at Obi-Wan expectantly, who sat back on his heels as he thought.

“Perhaps it’s symbolic,” he mused, trying not to give away that he knew what most likely was going to happen. After all, his memories didn’t include this conversation, or the way he’d collapsed earlier, so perhaps a different future had been set in motion. “She and her queen are heading to the Senate to argue their case, and I’m sure she’s going to encounter resistance along the way. But you might be seeing the future, if the queen decides to take matters into her own hands.”

“I hope she doesn’t, if it means Padmé won’t have to lead an army,” Anakin said, mulling over what Obi-Wan had told him.

“Was there anything else to it?” he asked after a moment. “Or was that it?”

Anakin shook his head, his gaze meeting Obi-Wan’s before darting away, and he could sense embarrassment growing in the boy. “There was something else, but…” He drew a deep breath and Obi-Wan waited as he chewed on his lip a little before finally nodding once. “It was about my mother.”

Part of Obi-Wan was reeling, yelling at himself to tell Anakin that he had to let go of the woman if he ever hoped to be a Jedi, but Obi-Wan ruthlessly squashed it. That was something he would’ve done if Anakin had been his apprentice, but the boy was not, and he needed someone to listen sympathetically, not condemn.

“What did you see?”

“She…” Anakin started, his face scrunching and his voice wavering. “She was in pain. She kept calling out to me, asking for my help, but I…” Anakin swallowed, and Obi-Wan felt as though part of him was melting from the sorrow he sensed radiating off the boy. “I couldn’t find her. I was running and running, looking everywhere, but she was hidden, and I…”

Anakin drew back then, and Obi-Wan could see tears gathering in the boy’s crystal blue eyes. “I couldn’t help her. I tried so hard, but it didn’t do anything. I couldn’t save her.” There was a loud sniffle as Anakin buried his face in his hands and Obi-Wan couldn’t take it. He couldn’t sit motionless any longer.

“There, there,” he whispered, moving to Anakin’s side and gathering the boy in his arms. To his infinite surprise, Anakin didn’t pull away. Instead, he latched onto Obi-Wan, his face pressing against the Jedi’s shoulder and his arms winding around the man’s neck. Sobs wracked the child’s body and Obi-Wan shut his eyes, rubbing Anakin’s back as he murmured a steady stream of nonsense, trying to be of some comfort.

“Visions can be awful,” he said at last, unsure if Anakin could even hear him. “Especially when they’re about ones who mean so much to us.” He felt Anakin nod against his neck, and Obi-Wan tightened his grip when he sensed shame growing in the boy.

“It’s all right to be upset,” he said softly. “You have every right to be. There’s nothing wrong with your reaction.”

“But I…” Anakin began, his voice muffled by Obi-Wan’s tunic. “I promised! I promised her I wouldn’t look back!” There was another sniffle, and another shudder ran through the boy’s body. “How’m I ever gonna be a Jedi if I’m so weak?”

Obi-Wan stiffened, unable to completely control the response, and after setting his jaw, he gently coaxed the boy off him, yet still held the child by his shoulders.

“Anakin, look at me,” he urged. “Your reaction does not make you weak. Do you hear me?” The boy nodded, peering up at Obi-Wan through tear-heavy lashes. “It means you have a heart that cares for people deeply, and that can be your greatest strength.”

Anakin sniffled again, biting his lip. “You… you really think so?”

Obi-Wan gave him the best smile he could muster. “Anakin, in part of the vision I saw earlier, I was forced to watch Qui-Gon die, while I was trapped behind an energy shield. He was impaled by an enemy, and I could do nothing.”

The boy gasped, the information startling him from his tears.

“And you saw how I reacted,” he continued, meeting Anakin’s wide-eyed stare. “So no, padawan, I don’t think you’re weak. When faced with the thought of losing something I love like a father, I nearly lost my mind. You, on the other hand, were reduced to tears. There’s a pretty big difference there, wouldn’t you agree?”

Anakin stared at him and he could sense several emotions rising the boy.

“You just… you just called me ‘padawan’,” was the first thing that Anakin blurted out and Obi-Wan winced inwardly. So much for controlling his tongue. “Was I a Jedi in your vision? Is that why you knew my name when you woke up?”

“Yes to both questions,” he said, sighing a little. “But let me explain something about visions, Anakin. As I said earlier, they’re notoriously difficult to decode, and even more difficult to tell if they’re actually going to happen. You may very well become someone’s padawan, but you also might not.”

“My mom and Qui-Gon might not die then, right?”

Obi-Wan nodded. “That Master Yoda I told you about, I’m always going to him with my visions, and even he can’t completely understand most of them. Every time I ask for advice, he tells me the same cryptic thing.”

He cleared his throat and Anakin looked up at him expectantly.

“‘Be careful you must, young padawan, when sensing the future you are,’” he said in his best Yoda-impression and Anakin cracked a smile. “‘Always in motion the future is. By attempting to counter the future you see, set in motion a worse one, you could. Remain mindful of happenings, you must, but let the vision cloud your mind, you must not.’”

Anakin laughed. “If he talks so funny and hits you with sticks, why do you always go to him?”

“Because he happens to be the wisest Jedi,” Obi-Wan said, smiling. “And even though I don’t like the answer, it hasn’t led me astray yet.”

_Only my arrogance has._

“But how can you sit by and do nothing? How do you know that it might happen because you didn’t do anything to stop it?” Anakin asked, suddenly frowning, and Obi-Wan let the boy slide into his lap.

“How do you know it might happen because you tried to stop it? What if the actions you take, thinking you’re going to counter the vision, actually make it take place?” he asked as Anakin curled up against him, and he absently rested his chin on the boy’s head. “Visions cause all sorts of problems for everyone, especially when you can’t get them out of your mind.”

“So that’s why Yoda told you not to let it affect your decisions,” Anakin said and Obi-Wan nodded.

“Being a Jedi is about considering every side to a situation, as well as following the will of the Force,” he said and felt Anakin nod a little. “If you make a decision simply because you think it’ll stop a vision from occurring, without stopping to calm yourself, you haven’t considered the other sides that exist, and you could have the situation blow up in your face.”

His words were met with silence, and part of him tensed in fear until he forced it to relax, summoning the Force to lessen it. Things had gone surprisingly well so far; Anakin had accepted him in a way that Obi-Wan certainly couldn’t remember ever happening. He’d held the boy after his nightmares, certainly, but never like this. Anakin had never been so relaxed in his presence, and it sent a wild, powerful hope coursing through his veins.

He just might succeed after all.

“I think I see,” Anakin said at last. “It’s kind of confusing, but I’ll do my best not to let my dreams affect my choices, and think about all the possible sides. I’m going to be a Jedi, after all, and if that’s what they do, then I’d better get started.”

Obi-Wan smiled, squeezing the boy gently in an encouraging hug. “I know it’s hard, Anakin. Being a Jedi is difficult; don’t let the calm we project fool you. There’re rules for just about everything; sometimes even the strictest of Jedi can find themselves chafing under the Code we live by.”

_I know I did._

“But is it really all that bad? Is it enough to make you stop being one?” Anakin asked and Obi-Wan fell silent. Here was the boy he remembered, full of direct, perceptive questions that unnerved many.

_Sometimes,_ he thought, shutting his eyes at the onslaught of triggered memories. _When I couldn’t sit by at Melida-Daan, and had to help those people, even if it meant abandoning the Order. I almost lost Qui-Gon in the process._

_Sometimes,_ he thought, _when the Council didn’t listen to me, when they ignored my concerns about Anakin. You’d think, as wary as they were about training him, they’d have more interest in my qualms concerning his temperament._

_Sometimes,_ he thought, _when I watched Anakin struggle to release his emotions, to let go of his anger and fear. When the Code failed to help him, failed to give him the comfort it brought me._

_You hid behind it,_ part of him whispered. _You didn’t truly know how to help Anakin, having been raised as a Jedi for your entire life. You’d known how to control your emotions ever since you were small. How could you teach a child without that training? When you didn’t have the same footing to begin with?_

Emotions were the key, he realized, feeling as though someone had hit him with a sack of bricks. Anakin had been raised by his loving mother, and forcing him to let go of that before he’d been ready, to deprive him of that support, that care, had been foolhardy. It was little surprise then, that Anakin had turned to the Dark Side, where emotions were glorified.

_I was certainly of little help, keeping him at arm’s length at every turn,_ he thought with a touch of bitterness. _Every time my heart told me to reach out to him, I brushed it off as letting emotions dictate my actions. However, what if that was what I needed to do?_

Anakin had been very much the unconventional Jedi, what with being allowed training at so late an age. What if his training needed to be completely unconventional as well? What if Obi-Wan had been like the father Anakin had so desperately needed in his life, instead of some stony teacher, suppressing any expression of the warmth he’d truly felt? Would things have ended as poorly?

_I thought that I was teaching him as Qui-Gon taught me,_ Obi-Wan mused, _b_ _ut my relationship with Qui-Gon is as far from the typical Master-padawan relationship as it can get. We’re family in everything but blood, and our bond is that much stronger because of it._

He definitely hadn’t treated Anakin as family, no matter what he’d felt. It was no wonder the boy had felt so lost, ripped from everything familiar, and Qui-Gon’s death hadn’t helped anything.

“Mister Obi-Wan?”

The voice broke him from his thoughts, and he opened his eyes to find Anakin peering at him in confusion. “You sure you’re all right? I thought you’d passed out again.”

Anakin frowned then. “You’re not… crying, are you?”

Obi-Wan touched his cheeks in surprise to find that they were slightly wet from a few tears that had somehow escaped. He laughed a little, part of him marveling at his lack of control, and he wiped them away.

“Maybe a little,” he said. “Your question just brought up some memories that still hurt.”

“I’m sorry,” Anakin said, and to Obi-Wan’s surprise, the boy meant it. He slid back into Obi-Wan’s lap, whose arms easily closed around him, and Anakin responded by tucking himself against the Jedi. “I didn’t think.”

“You couldn’t have known,” Obi-Wan responded, touched to the depths of his soul. His Anakin had never tried to console him, even when he knew Obi-Wan was upset by something, and he’d never apologized from his heart when he’d been the cause.

Anakin yawned then, reminding Obi-Wan just how late it was.

“I should leave you now,” he said softly and felt Anakin’s stiffen. “Everyone will be up sometime soon, and I’m sure you want to get some sleep tonight. If you don’t, Qui-Gon will be after me about keeping you up all night.”

“Then I won’t tell him,” Anakin said, his voice again muffled by Obi-Wan’s tunic. “I’m not that tired. Can’t we stay up talking more? I like talking to you.”

Obi-Wan gave Anakin a warm squeeze before pushing him away as gently as possible. “As flattered as I am, you do need your sleep. I’d rather not have a bad-tempered Anakin on my hands tomorrow.”

“Even if I promised not to be?”

Obi-Wan smiled at that, noting the hope shimmering in Anakin’s blue eyes. “Why don’t you just tell me why you don’t want to go to sleep? Are you afraid that you’ll dream about your mother again?”

Anakin wilted slightly, his shoulders drooping and his gaze darkening as it flicked away. “Maybe,” he muttered, and Obi-Wan tugged the forgotten blanket around the boy’s shoulders. He shivered before pulling it tighter, his eyes training on the metallic floor of the ship. “But it’s not just that. This place isn’t… it isn’t home.”

His voice dropped in volume as he spoke and Obi-Wan placed a hand on Anakin’s shoulder, silently urging the boy to look at him.

“Do you want me to stay until you fall asleep?” he offered, something he’d never done with the Anakin he remembered, and watched several emotions flicker across the boy’s face before vanishing behind a frown.

“Couldn’t I just stay with you tonight?” he countered and Obi-Wan blinked before watching Anakin wince. “Sorry. I know that was stupid, but…” The boy’s frown darkened and his shoulders drooped a little more. “I’m sorry.”

Obi-Wan heaved a mental sigh, even though part of him was grinning. His Anakin had never asked that, even when Obi-Wan had known he’d wanted to very desperately.

“No, it’s not stupid,” he said, and Anakin began staring up at him. “And I just might have a solution for this problem.”

He stood then, holding out his hand for Anakin to take. The boy looked up at him dubiously but tentatively slid his hand into Obi-Wan’s, and he tugged Anakin to his feet. “Come on. We’re going to make a short stop at the galley before we get some things from my quarters, but we have to do it quietly. I don’t want to wake anyone up.”

“Okay,” Anakin said as they started from the bay. “But what are we getting at the galley?”

Obi-Wan smiled, and judging by Anakin’s expression, he’d succeeded in making it mysterious. “You’ll see.”

***


	6. Chapter Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Qui-Gon has a bit of a shock, before he and Obi-Wan reach an understanding.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted to fanfiction.net in 2007.

***

Qui-Gon awoke from what had been the best sleep he’d had in weeks, part of him astounded that he’d accomplished it. He never slept well when away from the Temple and part of him had been worried that the situation with Obi-Wan would keep him awake. However, a session of meditation had calmed his fears, and after wishing Obi-Wan a mental ‘good night’, he’d fallen into a deep, peaceful sleep.

After rolling over and pulling back the privacy curtain, he rubbed away any lingering grogginess from his eyes and yawned around the horrible morning taste in his mouth. Shucking his blankets, he sat up. He then ran his fingers through his hair before glancing across the room to see if Obi-Wan had awoken yet.

He blinked. Obi-Wan wasn’t there, and nor were the cushion or any of the blankets from the sleep couch.

_Stars and galaxies, what happened?_

Qui-Gon stood, frowning at the spectacle. What could have made his padawan want to move his bed?

His frown deepened when another thought occurred to him. Surely the act must have made quite a bit of noise, so why hadn’t he awoken? Unless Obi-Wan had laid down some of that soundproof shielding he’d been taught… but why would the padawan desire such secrecy? Wouldn’t he have realized that Qui-Gon would’ve had no objections?

_Who knows; perhaps Obi-Wan didn’t do it at all. Perhaps something happened and I simply slept too deeply to notice._

Qui-Gon’s swallowed; the situation felt horribly odd. Perhaps his food had been drugged… but to what ends? No one in their party would actually go to lengths to kidnap Obi-Wan, and they certainly wouldn’t have taken the entire sleep couch if they had.

_-Obi-Wan?-_ he called into their bond and his brows furrowed in confusion. The link was utterly silent; he couldn’t even get the sense of Obi-Wan’s presence that normally flowed between them.

_Follow the bond, then,_ Qui-Gon thought. _Find Obi-Wan that way._

He knelt in a meditative pose, his feet tucked beneath him and his hands resting on his thighs. He cast his mind into the link, following the weakened threads to wherever they might lead. He didn’t get very far when the bond abruptly stopped, leaving him staring at the mental equivalent of a blank spot.

His gut plummeted as the implications poured through his mind.

_He’s dead,_ something whispered, but he pushed the thought aside roughly. He couldn’t afford to be irrational. He would’ve felt Obi-Wan’s death…

Wouldn’t he?

Drawing a deep breath to force his heart out of his throat, Qui-Gon began studying the blank spot. Upon closer examination, he found that the ends of the bond hadn’t been severed; they merely disappeared off into nothing. He continued examining, reaching out and brushing against the spot, and he jerked mentally when it skillfully diverted him. If he hadn’t known better, he would’ve sworn that there was nothing there, but the nature of the redirection was what gave him his clues.

Without his knowledge, someone had erected a _Kinas_ -shield around Obi-Wan.

The skill that had gone behind it was superb; if Qui-Gon hadn’t known what to look for, he would’ve missed it. He knew this kind of mental shielding well, having been forced to use it on occasion. It was a combination of shields that not only hid the Force-user’s presence from other Force-users, but masked their mental signatures as well. It was, in effect, a cloaking device taught to a select few, usually the most skilled Masters at the time. A few undercover Jedi in charge of the most perilous of missions knew of it as well, but all were sworn to utter secrecy.

To find it around Obi-Wan was startling and extremely worrying. Who could have done such a thing?

Unfortunately, Qui-Gon couldn’t answer that, as part of the training included a mind wipe that made the learner forget who had taught it to him. Granted, he could safely assume that Masters Yoda and Mace Windu knew, perhaps even most of the Council for that matter, but they would have no reason to place that kind of shield around Obi-Wan, and none of them were even present for that matter.

Qui-Gon’s lips thinned. The more he thought about it, the only person who could have reasonably placed such a shield around Obi-Wan would have been either Qui-Gon or Obi-Wan himself. Since Qui-Gon knew for a fact that he hadn’t taught Obi-Wan that kind of shielding…

_But why would I place such a thing around him? Wouldn’t I remember doing it? And now how am I supposed to find him?_

Qui-Gon withdrew back into his own mind, silently sighing and trying to dispel the disquiet that had risen up within him. Not only had his padawan mysteriously vanished, presumably taking the sleep couch with him, but Qui-Gon had, in all probability, placed a high-level shield on Obi-Wan and didn’t remember doing it.

What was going on?

_Find Obi-Wan and everything will be explained,_ Qui-Gon reassured himself, soothing his unrest and reaching out with his mind once again. This time, however, he began searching for any residue of Obi-Wan’s presence, hoping that the shield hadn’t been placed before his padawan had decided to start wandering around.

He smiled when he found traces of his missing apprentice, a flash of humor here, a brush of sorrow there.

It led towards the maintenance bay.

Withdrawing for the second time, Qui-Gon picked himself up and went to change. As much as he wanted to start off immediately, he knew that it would do little good if the queen or one of her handmaidens caught him in such a state. For them to see the calm Jedi Master Qui-Gon Jinn tearing through the corridors of the ship in search of his apprentice would only undermine his assertion that they had nothing to worry about, and he wanted to make it to Coruscant without any further problems.

Or rather, without any they were aware of.

Qui-Gon changed into a work tunic, brushed his hair and teeth, and slammed his feet into his boots in record time. He made the bed with a wave of his hand, justifying the frivolous use of the Force through his lack of time to spare. The traces he’d sensed had been just that, and if Obi-Wan turned out to not be in the maintenance bay, Qui-Gon would have to start all over again. The less time those traces had to fade, the better.

As Qui-Gon walked briskly through the corridors, he took the time to run a brief scan of the ship with the Force. In his haste, he hadn’t spared a glance at his chronometer, so for all he knew, it could have been noon.

He was relieved to find that few passengers were out of bed. He could sense a few cooks arguing in the galley and a sleepy pilot in need of a shift change, but everyone else appeared to be still asleep.

_All the better. The less anyone knows of this little event, the happier I’ll be,_ he thought as he turned a few corners and found himself in the wide doorway that opened into the expansive maintenance bay.

Qui-Gon paused there, his eyes and Force-sense roaming the room, hunting for anything out of the ordinary. Jar Jar was curled up beside Artoo, but nothing appeared amiss. It was just a normal, relatively empty maintenance bay, with odd droid bits thrown everywhere and a normal pile of blankets in one corner. No Jedi in sight.

Qui-Gon sighed impatiently. All of the traces led here and yet there was nothing. He would have to search the entire ship before anyone caught on.

_A waste of time,_ he grumped. _The shielding must’ve been put in place here, because I can’t sense Obi-Wan’s presence going anywhere else._

Just as he turned to go, the rustle of cloth reached his ears, and he frowned. Had that normal pile of blankets just moved?

He blinked, rubbed his eyes for good measure, and stared. Sure enough, there it was again. It looked like someone was pulling the blankets around them and snuggling down beneath their depths.

That was impossible, part of him whispered. He’d seen it himself; it was just a _normal pile_ of blankets. Not a Jedi, just a plain, brown blanket.

Qui-Gon almost found himself agreeing with the suggestion and shook himself roughly. He forced his gaze to focus on the blankets, _willing_ himself to see beyond what his mind was telling him.

When he reached out with the Force, he felt the illusion shatter.

_I don’t believe it._

There, off to one side of the bay and buried beneath the blankets, was his wayward apprentice, sleeping much more peacefully than he had any right to, considering he’d given his Master another scare. Qui-Gon recognized the thick comforter from the sleep couch, but the cushion Obi-Wan slept on was much wider than the one from the room, and part of him wondered what had happened to it. If his padawan was sleeping on something he’d found, what had he done with the rest of the sleep couch?

Then Qui-Gon realized something rather startling: Obi-Wan was sleeping like a normal person. His body wasn’t flung in the strangest position, his blankets weren’t strewn across the room, his pillow wasn’t lodged behind an astromech droid, and he certainly wasn’t snoring. The covers rose and fell gently with each deep breath he took, and Qui-Gon stared. His apprentice once again appeared to be in a healing trance.

_Well, it’s time to snap him out of it. I want some answers,_ Qui-Gon thought, his lips pressing together, and he took several steps into the room.

It was then that he noticed something else: the reason the cushion looked wider was not because Obi-Wan had found a larger one, but because he’d taken the cushions from the bench beside him to extend the width.

And to what purpose was quickly revealed. Tucked up beside Obi-Wan was Anakin. The boy’s back was pressed against the padawan’s side, his head pillowed on the arm that curved protectively around him, and he was buried beneath a slew of blankets. Together the two cut an image of utter peace, and the sense of _rightness_ that filled Qui-Gon upon seeing them was enough to stop him in his tracks.

When had his apprentice formed such a deep bond with the child?

The sight warmed his heart, despite the irritation he’d been feeling towards his errant padawan. Here was the answer to most of his questions. Obi-Wan, being the insomniac that he was, must’ve gone out some time during the night, and unexpectedly stumbled upon the boy and talked to him. Instead of leaving Anakin to sleep in such an unfamiliar place on his own, Obi-Wan had returned, snatched up the sleep couch, and hurried back to the bay.

_And he teases me about taking pity on pathetic life forms,_ Qui-Gon thought, his gaze landing on two large, empty drinking mugs. Upon inspection, he learned they’d held some kind of milk, presumably with forest honey.

That made him smile all over again. The drink was a typical, soothing beverage that Obi-Wan consumed when plagued with insomnia, and he’d clearly shared it with Anakin.

_As much as I am loath to destroy this peace,_ Qui-Gon thought, his smile fading as he stood over Obi-Wan and Anakin. _The more disturbing questions have yet to be answered._

Qui-Gon still couldn’t sense Obi-Wan even though he was standing a few paces from the young man, which should’ve been impossible. The _Kinas_ -shields did well until the hunter had some form of visual confirmation; they began to falter once the hunter could resist the redirections. There was something else to the shielding around Obi-Wan, and upon closer examination, Qui-Gon determined that he had not placed the shields around the padawan.

Somehow, Obi-Wan had erected them.

Qui-Gon knew his padawan’s Force-signature like the back of his own hand, and it was all over the shields.

_How is this possible? Not only has he managed to learn how to create them, but he’s managed to modify them as well!_ Qui-Gon thought in shock. The _Kinas_ -shields he sensed weren’t deteriorating, indicating a stronger structure that Qui-Gon hadn’t been taught, and they somehow included that strong Force-suggestion that kept someone from seeing the user. Normally the two types couldn’t be mixed, yet here was living proof that it could be done.

Qui-Gon felt his gaze narrow; he wanted to know why his twenty-five year old apprentice was able to accomplish something a Jedi Master twice his age could not.

“ _Wake up_ , Obi-Wan,” Qui-Gon said, emphasizing the command with the Force, and he extended his foot to give his padawan a slight physical nudge as well. He could feel the shields around his apprentice shift in response to the command, the young Jedi stiffening slightly as the words worked their way past the blocks.

Qui-Gon jumped when Obi-Wan’s eyes snapped open.

The next thing Qui-Gon knew he was face down on the floor, his cheek mashed against the cushion, his arms twisted behind his back, and a deactivated lightsaber held to his throat. Something heavy pressed down on his back and a powerful hand gripped the back of his neck, pinching the pressure points that rendered the lower half of his body useless. He winced when he felt the Force tighten around his wrists, tugging them up towards his head painfully, and he actually cried out when a knee dug into his lower back.

“ _Who are you?_ ” a voice hissed vehemently, and Qui-Gon could see a thumb twitching as it hovered over the on-switch to the lightsaber.

_His_ lightsaber, for that matter…

“This isn’t an espionage mission and no self-respecting Jedi would dare take on the image of someone who’s been dead for thirteen years,” the voice continued. “So again; who are you?”

Qui-Gon froze when his mind finally placed the voice. This couldn’t be; it just couldn’t!

“Padawan, what are you doing?” he exclaimed as best he could, with half of his face smashed against the floor. When the grip on his neck tightened dangerously, he reached out along their bond, trying to prove who he was.

_-Obi-Wan, what is going on?-_ he queried, and along with a flash of shock that rolled back to him along the link, he was bombarded with images, impressions…

Qui-Gon found himself in an oppressive, muggy heat, the smell of rich earth filling his nostrils, and moisture wicking off his body. The call of an unknown creature reached his ears, along with the steady thud of boots that marched along behind him, and he glanced up at the thick jungle canopy above, searching for a hint of the sun’s position so he could lead his troops to the rendezvous point before dark…

_“General Kenobi?”_

_He glanced back at his second in command, who had his helmet off and was wiping a mixture of sweat and condensation from his brow. “What is it, Cody? Have you managed to fix our compass?”_

_“We’re still working on it,” the commander responded. “But the scouts report a large body of water ahead of us, and I thought it prudent to discuss with you the possibility of stopping for a rest. The men need it and it would give us a chance to refill our water stores.”_

_Qui-Gon found himself smiling tightly. “I agree. Lead the way, Commander.”_

_“Yes, sir!”_

“Master!”

Qui-Gon jerked, his mind reeling from the images he’d received, and he found himself blinking up at Obi-Wan’s frightened face.

“Master, are you all right? I didn’t mean for that to happen! You just surprised me; I was dreaming, and you woke me right when I was about to be attacked, so I couldn’t stop myself,” his padawan babbled as he helped Qui-Gon sit up. The older Jedi felt Obi-Wan run a gentle scan, searching for any injuries. When he found some, he healed them instantly.

“Were you dreaming of a jungle?” Qui-Gon asked, part of him noting another skill leap. Obi-Wan had never been the best of healers, struggling with the most minor of bruises, and yet here he was, pouring healing energies into the wounds he’d unintentionally inflicted like a seasoned Master.

“I suppose you saw some of it over the bond?” Obi-Wan asked in return, and Qui-Gon nodded slowly. His neck still stung from the pressure Obi-Wan had subjected it to, but at least he could move his lower body again. “I’m sorry you had to see that; I was trying to keep it from bothering you.”

“Hence the shields?” Qui-Gon asked with raised eyebrows and Obi-Wan blinked. “Yes, padawan, I know about your shields. And I want to know when you learned _Kinas_ -shielding without my knowledge, guidance, or approval.”

“ _K-Kinas_ -shielding?” Obi-Wan said, radiating confusion, and if it hadn’t been for the marginal widening of his eyes, Qui-Gon would’ve believed that he had no idea what they were.

“Yes, padawan,” he repeated, though he found his teeth were clenched. “Kindly explain when you managed the skill required for them, and do tell me how you were able to lace a potent Force-suggestion into the mix, because I ran into both when I came looking for you.”

“I… I don’t know how to…”

His padawan trailed off, and he knew Obi-Wan was stalling for time, as behind his extensive shields, Qui-Gon could sense that his apprentice was working frantically to come up with an answer. Sitting back, the Jedi Master folded his aching arms over his chest, and waited.

“Time’s up, padawan,” he said at last, making Obi-Wan jump a little. “What have you got to say for yourself?”

He watched as Obi-Wan shut his eyes, his shoulders drooping ever so slightly, and the young man drew a deep breath before beginning. “M-Master,” Obi-Wan started, stumbling a bit over the title, “you might not believe what I’m about to tell you.”

“Try me, Obi-Wan,” Qui-Gon said with a touch of frost. “At this point, I’m ready to believe just about anything.”

Obi-Wan shivered, but continued. “It’s because of those visions I had yesterday,” he said quietly and Qui-Gon stiffened.

“You mean they showed you how to erect those kinds of shields?” he asked, his voice hushed in surprise. “But that’s-”

“Impossible? Unheard of? Crazy?” Obi-Wan said, a small smirk twisting his lips, but not touching his eyes. “I know. But you saw them yourself, and I swear to you, Master, that up until those visions I didn’t know how to do any of this.”

Qui-Gon sat back, drumming his fingers against his elbow and frowning. Obi-Wan’s words rang true through the Force, no matter how much he didn’t like it. “Then who taught you how to meld those two shields together? I’d always been told it was impossible.”

Another small smirk brushed Obi-Wan’s features. “The visions didn’t show me. How could they? The people who taught me did a specific mind-wipe once the training was finished.”

Qui-Gon grimaced in embarrassment; how had he forgotten that part? “So what was that bit about the jungle? And leading the troops?”

Obi-Wan shrugged marginally. “Just stray bits of the visions. There’s nothing more too it.”

Qui-Gon frowned; not only was the Force whispering that there was much more to it, but Obi-Wan wasn’t meeting his gaze, a tell-tale sign that he was lying. No matter how old he got, he couldn’t seem to out-grow that bad habit.

“You still aren’t willing to share, are you?”

Obi-Wan shut his eyes and bowed his head in a silent plea for forgiveness, a pose he often adopted. “I thought we promised to discuss this later,” he said quietly.

“Yes, but you also promised that you would come to me if you had any problems before then,” Qui-Gon shot back and he barely caught the faint grimace that flashed across Obi-Wan’s face.

“I said I’d come to you when I was ready, Master,” Obi-Wan said, his tone colder.

“And when is ready, Obi-Wan?” He couldn’t help the heat in his voice and he could almost see his padawan shrink away before he strove to siphon it into the Force. “When you’ve accidentally killed someone because they startled you from sleep? When more of these visions surface while we’re in trouble, leaving me to fend for myself?”

“Master, it won’t happen again! The shielding was habit, all right?” Obi-Wan shouted, startling Qui-Gon. “In the dream, it was something I’d always done, to protect myself, because I was in the middle of a war. And since I doubt I’ll be having that same dream again, you won’t have to worry about me accidentally killing anyone!”

_In the middle of a war?_

“And what if something even worse surfaces? What will happen if no one can snap you out of it?” Qui-Gon shot back. “What will you do then? No, Obi-Wan, I’m not going to take that chance. You are lowering your shields _now_ , before we have a repeat of your attack.”

Obi-Wan sat there, staring at him with eyes wide from shock, and Qui-Gon raised an eyebrow in a silent question.

“What happened to trusting me, Master?” Obi-Wan finally asked, and Qui-Gon could sense indignation flare in his padawan before being carefully diffused into the Force. “What happened to remaining calm and objective? And patient? Why can’t you believe that I’ll be all right if you’d just leave me alone?”

“Because I did leave you alone, and I wound up with a knee in my kidneys and a lightsaber at my throat,” Qui-Gon said, trying to repeat Obi-Wan and release his mounting frustration before it fanned completely out of control. “You’ve proven to me that these visions are interfering with your focus. Now lower your shields.”

“What’s going on?”

The sleepy voice startled Qui-Gon and he glanced to his right to see Anakin emerging from the blankets. There was a crease on the side of his cheek and his hair was completely rumpled, his clothes in utter disarray. Anakin yawned widely and stretched before rubbing the sleep from his eyes and blinking at the two Jedi.

“I heard people shouting. Is something wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong, Ani,” Obi-Wan said with a warm smile, before Qui-Gon would respond similarly. “Qui-Gon and I were merely discussing something, but don’t worry about it. I’m sorry if we woke you.”

“’Sall right,” Anakin said, yawning again. “I’ve had ruder wake-up calls; it takes a lot to get me up. Mom says I’m the heaviest sleeper she’s ever met.”

Obi-Wan chuckled, his smile widening ever so slightly. “I believe it, if you managed to stay asleep until now.”

“So do you want me to let you guys finish?” Anakin asked, surprising Qui-Gon with his astuteness, and Obi-Wan nodded.

“Do you mind taking the cushions and blankets back to my quarters? We’ll be finished by the time you come back,” Obi-Wan said and Anakin nodded before gathering up half of the sleeping material. With a nod and a smile to both Jedi, he hurried from the maintenance bay.

Anakin left silence in his wake, and both master and apprentice shifted uneasily for a moment, unsure of where to begin.

“He was in those visions wasn’t he?” Qui-Gon asked at last, once he knew Anakin was out of hearing range. Obi-Wan’s gaze merely flicked to him, his eyes a cold, neutral grey. “That’s why you knew his name when you woke; why you formed a bond with him so quickly.”

“Yes,” Obi-Wan said at last, a small sigh escaping him, and he fell silent.

After it became clear that nothing more was going to be added, Qui-Gon leaned forward to touch a hand to his apprentice’s shoulder.

“Obi-Wan, would you mind telling me why you’re so reluctant to share these visions?” he asked quietly and nearly shivered from the flash of pain that rolled through the bond. His padawan’s face had taken on a look he couldn’t quite describe, and for an instant, Obi-Wan appeared so _old_ , his blue-green eyes haunted by terrors Qui-Gon could only imagine.

“They’re disturbing,” Obi-Wan whispered, chills racing down Qui-Gon’s spine.

“All the more reason to share them,” Qui-Gon responded, and Obi-Wan lifted his gaze. Their eyes met briefly, and Qui-Gon caught a glimpse of churning lava, a blue lightsaber clashing with his own, felt a sickening heat searing his skin, choked in the noxious sulfurous gases…

Obi-Wan looked away, silencing the screams that echoed along the bond.

“What happened?” Qui-Gon whispered, feeling his hands shake, but Obi-Wan stared at the wall, his eyes seeing something far beyond.

When Obi-Wan finally spoke, his voice was barely a whisper.

“I died.”

Qui-Gon froze, really froze, his brain running that sentence over and over as he tried to process it.

“What…?”

“I watched everything spiral into chaos and I died,” Obi-Wan continued, and Qui-Gon did shiver this time. The Force sang and the words rang true; it was what Obi-Wan had seen. “I tried to stop it, but I failed. In the end, I could do nothing but sit by helplessly and watch as the worlds came crashing down.”

Qui-Gon was at a loss for words; it was no wonder Obi-Wan had been hysterical upon finally coming around. He wasn’t sure how he would’ve responded, if placed in the same position, and part of him selfishly hoped that he would never be.

_Oh, padawan, I’m sorry._

Obi-Wan shook his head; somehow he’d heard the shielded thought. “Don’t be. You’re my Master, and you take care of me, whether I like it or not.”

Obi-Wan smiled then, a hollow replica that made part of Qui-Gon twist painfully. “I just need a few days to sort everything out. If you’ll give me that, then I’ll tell you everything I saw. I swear.”

“Obi-Wan…” Qui-Gon started, but trailed off. How could he explain the feeling that was growing in the back of his mind, the one demanding that he be told everything _now_ , lest something terrible happen?

“Master, if you don’t trust me when I tell you that this will never happen again, keep me under constant surveillance. I’ll lower all the shields I can, if it’ll make you feel better,” Obi-Wan said, his tone deadly serious, and Qui-Gon found himself wondering what had happened to the sparkle that normally resided in Obi-Wan’s eyes. Had these strange visions killed it?

“You don’t have to,” Qui-Gon said at last, heaving a sigh. “You do deserve your privacy, and I don’t think I want your thoughts running through my head at all times.” He felt something flicker faintly along their bond, but it was gone before he could identify it. “I’ll give you the time you ask for, Obi-Wan, but if I find you in one of your twisted realities again, all previous promises are null and void.”

“I know, Master,” Obi-Wan replied, relaxing slightly. “Please just be patient with me until I can get my equilibrium established properly. I have the feeling that if I tried to relive those visions now, my reaction would be even worse.”

An unexpected chill settled across Qui-Gon’s shoulders as Obi-Wan spoke, and he found himself reluctantly agreeing.

A flash of relief followed it; what damage might he have done if he’d ignored one of his most central rules? He always urged patience above all else, believing that it helped in all situations, and here he was, acting like a reckless Initiate.

He never could be rational where his padawans were concerned, however, and he worried more about Obi-Wan than any other apprentice he’d had.

“It seems Anakin has returned. What do you say to a meal, Master?”

Qui-Gon glanced up at Obi-Wan’s voice, to find that the padawan had stood and was in the process of straightening his tunics. Qui-Gon watched as Obi-Wan combed his fingers through his hair, retying the nerf-tail, and Qui-Gon’s gaze fell on the padawan braid. It was looking a little tousled, and before Obi-Wan could react, Qui-Gon had stood and begun to re-plait it, adjusting the beads with utter care.

For a split second, a sharp flash of sorrow and nostalgia raced through the bond. It was silenced quickly, deep gratitude replacing it. Qui-Gon gave no sign that he’d sensed the emotions, and when he met the gaze of his padawan, he was surprised to find a faint sheen of tears brimming along the edges of Obi-Wan’s eyes.

“Thank you,” Obi-Wan whispered once Qui-Gon had finished, and wiped at his eyes, though it seemed to do little good, as the tears kept coming.

_Why does it always seem to be you, padawan?_ Qui-Gon thought, his heart breaking at the sight. _Why can I never protect you as I would like?_

Qui-Gon murmured something that was a mix of a regretful sigh and an expression of his grief, and then wrapped his arms around his apprentice. He held Obi-Wan, trying to calm the young man’s shaking form, and whispered pure nonsense as the padawan cried silently over a wound that none could see.

***


	7. Chapter Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Breakfast with the Jedi and Anakin. Contains rather silly fluff, and not much else. You have been warned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted to fanfiction.net in 2007.

***

“Master Jinn!”

Qui-Gon turned away from the serving table at the sound of his name, slightly surprised by the greeting. He hadn’t expected to find anyone in the galley so early.

He smiled when he found Padmé standing before him, dressed in her yellow, fluttering handmaiden gowns. She returned his smile, her head dipping in a polite bow, and she moved to stand beside him.

“Good morning, young handmaiden,” he greeted as she took a plate from the top of the pile at the end of the table and began to spoon herself some of the pale orange protein dish. Qui-Gon assumed that it had been engineered to imitate Naboo scrambled eggs, which were perishable and hard to come by.

“Good morning,” she responded, and he passed her the spatula for the Corellian tubers, which had been sliced into thin strips, formed into patties, and then fried. Corellian tubers, unlike Naboo eggs, were ridiculously easy to procure, and kept for years. “I trust you and your padawan slept well?”

“We did, thank you,” he said, selecting several pieces of a thinly sliced and fried meat that he couldn’t identify, and adding them to his plate. “And yourself? How is the queen faring?”

Padmé shot him an oblique look. “The queen is anxious for our arrival, but preparations for her upcoming address of the Senate have kept her occupied,” the girl said. “She wanted me to ask if you wouldn’t mind meeting with her later today to discuss what she might say.”

“I’m not a politician,” Qui-Gon replied. “I’m afraid I might not be much help.”

“Any help is better than none,” she returned before blinking at something off to Qui-Gon’s right.

“ _Two_ plates, Padawan Kenobi?” she asked, and Qui-Gon turned his head slightly to find that Obi-Wan was indeed attempting to balance two plates full with food on one arm. Cutlery had been poised along the edges precariously, and after pausing for a moment, he moved to collect two glasses of synthetic muja juice with his free hand.

“Oh, only one’s for me,” he said, glancing up briefly to throw them both a small grin. “The other is for Anakin, who got the easy job of picking out a table.”

“Go,” Qui-Gon told him, sending his disbelief along the bond. “I’ll join you shortly.”

_-If you managed to make it there with the plates in one piece,-_ he added, smiling a little as Obi-Wan sent him a sour expression.

_-Ha, ha, Master. Very funny,-_ he sent and turned to go. _–But we’ll certainly see who has the true last laugh, won’t we?-_

How Obi-Wan managed the small bow he gave Padmé without dropping or spilling anything left Qui-Gon puzzling for a moment, especially since the Obi-Wan he remembered couldn’t have managed that recklessly graceful movement, but he finally sighed and shook his head. His apprentice had a lot to answer for, and now was not the time to start in on questioning.

“I’m glad I ran into you, Master Jinn,” Padmé said, bringing him from his thoughts, and he poured two glasses of the muja juice for them. “When we stopped briefly last night for the next portion of our jump, we managed to receive the latest news reports as well as a message from the Jedi Council. I’d planned to stop by your cabin after breakfast to bring you a copy, but since you’re here, I can just give it to you now.”

“Thank you, Handmaiden Naberrie,” he said as he handed her the second glass, and she nodded her head in thanks. “Would you care to join us? I’m sure there’ll be room.”

She smiled. “I would be delighted to.”

The two moved from the kitchen section of the galley to the dining area, which was full of long, rectangular tables and padded benches. There were a few smaller circular tables in the back, and it seemed Anakin had chosen one of those. Obi-Wan stood before the boy, holding out the two plates, and had raised his eyebrows in a silent question.

“Pick one, Ani,” Qui-Gon heard him say, and the boy began to scrutinize both of the plates, tapping a finger against his chin. “And do hurry. I’d like to eat before my food grows cold.”

“That one,” Anakin said at last, accepting the plate from Obi-Wan, who pulled out a chair and sat down. “What is all this stuff, anyway?”

“It’s better not to ask that,” Obi-Wan said, his gaze flicking to Qui-Gon’s, who had to suppress a smile at the familiar mischievous glint in his apprentice’s blue-green eyes. “A lot of cultures eat some of the strangest foods, and when you know the seemingly delicious platter before you is actually ground up insect guts…”

Anakin’s face crumpled in utter horror. “People actually _eat_ that kind of stuff?”

“Look at the Hutts,” Obi-Wan replied, reaching for some seasoning and liberally sprinkling it over the protein substitute. “They eat insects, don’t they?”

“Well, yeah, but they’re not normal,” Anakin said, poking his food dubiously. “They’re not a good example.”

“Don’t listen to Obi-Wan, Ani,” Qui-Gon said as he moved to sit across from his padawan. “He just wants you to give up on your food so he doesn’t have to go back for seconds.”

Obi-Wan rolled his eyes good-naturedly, his amusement easily reaching Qui-Gon over their bond.

“Besides,” Qui-Gon added, “you’re right about the Hutts. They’re many other species, more humanoid ones, whose dishes are digestible by Humans, and yet are completely unpalatable.”

“You’re referring to the aboriginal people of Teersak V?” Obi-Wan asked, the glint fading from his eyes. It was replaced with one that was distinctly more wary.

“The very same,” Qui-Gon responded, letting his gaze meet Obi-Wan’s. “I seem to recall a padawan who nearly got us thrown off the planet simply because he didn’t care for the cuisine.”

“Did you really?” Anakin asked breathlessly, his eyes wide as he stared up at Obi-Wan, who huffed a little.

“Master, that _cuisine_ , as you so aptly put it, was crawling off my plate,” he said, and Anakin gawked. “Of course I was going to have some objections about eating it, especially considering that the creature was roughly the size of my head.”

Qui-Gon gave a small shrug as he reached for the seasoning and the Corellian catsup. “Minor details, padawan. You still managed to throw up all over the Teersian ambassador, ruining his best set of robes. How I salvaged that situation is a mystery none will solve.”

A soft giggle drew their attention to the fourth member of their party, one Qui-Gon had completely forgotten about.

“If Jedi can banter back and forth over their morning meal, then I’m sure the queen has nothing to worry about,” Padmé said as she took a seat beside him, setting her plate across from Anakin’s, before handing Qui-Gon a datapad, and he smiled in thanks.

“Padmé!” Anakin exclaimed happily as she sat. “You’re up awfully early!”

“I have to be, as many of the queen’s appointments are normally a few hours after sunrise. I’ve gotten used to the schedule,” she responded, picking up a fork and taking a bite of her breakfast. “And as for food, Ani, I assure you that none of this has insects in it. The people of Naboo don’t eat them.”

“Thanks,” the boy said, smiling gratefully, and he moved to copy the handmaiden.

They ate in relative silence for a while, with Qui-Gon scanning the messages from the Council and determining to send one of his own during the next brief lull between jumps. He then moved on to the news reports, searching for any further information about the situation with Naboo, and was surprised when he came across so little.

“Shocking, isn’t it?”

He glanced up at Padmé. “Pardon?”

She jerked her chin at the datapad in his grasp. “I mean it’s shocking to find next to nothing about my planet’s situation. You’d think that news of a blockade on a peaceful planet would command headlines across all news stations, yet there’s barely an article or two,” she said and Qui-Gon sensed her outrage spike. “My people are dying because of the Trade Federation blockade, and not one of those mere paragraphs has gotten the facts straight.”

“That, unfortunately, is the nature of reporting,” Qui-Gon said soberly, while catching snatches of the conversation Obi-Wan had engaged Anakin in. The boy was complaining about the complete lack of flavor in the protein dish. “In this day and age there is little desire for truth.”

“And more desire for higher circulation,” Padmé finished, sighing faintly as she started in on her tubers. Her gaze meandered to the opposite side of the table, and when a small smile played across her lips, Qui-Gon glanced up to find Obi-Wan seasoning a small portion of Anakin’s food.

“Try that,” his apprentice said, the two completely oblivious to their audience. Anakin complied, his frown instantly brightening. “See? Not so bad now, hm?”

“Yeah, you were right,” the boy responded, reaching for the seasoning. “It gave it the kick that it needed.”

“Your apprentice seems… different,” Padmé said quietly as she watched the two, and Qui-Gon glanced at her before returning his gaze to the datapad. “He seems… warmer, more confident.”

“How do you mean?” he asked, his tone utterly indifferent, though inside he was frowning. It seemed he wasn’t the only one to notice.

“You’ll forgive me for going on first impressions,” she said around bites of her food. “But when I met your padawan, he seemed very cold. Very calm. I never would’ve guessed he had a softer side.”

“We all have different sides, different faces, that we choose not to reveal until we are certain of those around us,” Qui-Gon responded, not looking up, and he sensed the flash of guilt that rushed through the girl. “Even though we are Jedi, we are still Human, and certain habits will remain ingrained in us.”

She dropped the subject in favor of one of the articles Qui-Gon was reading. “I see you’ve come across the Trade Federation’s explanation for the event?” she asked and he nodded absently, absorbed in his reading.

“It’s the most disgusting little bit of falsehood I’ve ever read,” she added, attacking her meat in a particularly vicious manner, and apparently it was enough to pique Obi-Wan’s attention, as a soft query rolled through the bond.

_-What’d you say to make her so upset, Master?-_

Qui-Gon started a little at the thought, his gaze flicking up to Obi-Wan, who was watching them from the corner of his eye. _–Nothing in particular. She’s just anxious about the Senate. She fears that we’re wasting precious time in attempting to plead her peoples’ case.-_

Obi-Wan chewed his food slowly, and Qui-Gon could sense a mood of deep contemplation settling on the padawan. _–Is there anything of interest in the news reports? Anything that might give her that particular impression?-_

_-It must be the lack of substantial articles,-_ Qui-Gon responded, taking a bite of his food as he continued reading. _–She feels that since no one is bothering to report it properly, no one in the Senate will listen.-_

A faint grimace tugged on Obi-Wan’s lips, and Qui-Gon sensed a thread of frustration curling through their bond. _–She might be right, you know.-_

Obi-Wan met his gaze fully at that thought, and Qui-Gon felt his lips tighten before he went back to reading.

_-It is possible,-_ he consented. _–I do find the lack of news disturbing, but what other options do we have, padawan? We have no army to oust the invaders. Two Jedi can do little against the forces we saw massing on Naboo.-_

_-_ We _might not have an army,-_ Obi-Wan began, and Qui-Gon looked up to find his apprentice watching him, an odd expression in the young man’s eyes. _–But what about the Gungans?-_

Qui-Gon quirked one of his eyebrows upward. _–Just what are you suggesting? Do you really think they would help?-_

Obi-Wan sent the mental equivalent of a shrug. _–Perhaps, if persuaded properly. Should we suggest this to the queen? She might find this knowledge useful.-_

His gaze flicked to Padmé at that, and Qui-Gon raised both eyebrows; he hadn’t been aware that Obi-Wan knew of the handmaiden’s secret.

_-Your sense of perception is growing stronger, padawan,-_ Qui-Gon sent, sensing Obi-Wan’s mental grin.

_-It’s kind of funny, actually,-_ the young man responded. _–She thinks she has us completely fooled.-_

_-Let it stay that way,-_ Qui-Gon sent. _–We cannot afford to destroy her cover. It is useful, especially for hiding from the enemies who will undoubtedly seek to counter us on Coruscant.-_

Obi-Wan sent his agreement, but their mental conversation was broken by a giggle from Padmé and an exasperated cry from Anakin.

“Obi-Wan, stop it!” the boy exclaimed, and Padmé let out yet another giggle, but this time she tried to smother it. “I just want some of that sauce, so quit making it avoid me!”

“What makes you think I’m doing anything, Ani?” Obi-Wan asked, his tone perfectly confused, but Qui-Gon heard the mental snicker. He glanced up from his datapad just in time to see Anakin make a mad grab for the catsup bottle, which quickly twitched out of his path.

“ _Obi-Wan!_ ”

“Ani, how could I be moving that bottle?” Qui-Gon heard his padawan ask. “Do you see me touching it at all?”

“Well, no…”

The bottle made another miraculous escape and Qui-Gon set down his datapad in shock, gaping at the sight.

“But I know you’re doing it! You’re a Jedi; you could be moving it with your mind!” the boy said, frowning in concentration as he focused on the bottle, which happened to be doing a jaunty little jig as it sat just out of reach. Padmé erupted into fit of giggles at the sight and Qui-Gon looked up at his apprentice, his gaze incredulous.

“Maybe,” Obi-Wan said, the mysterious note to his voice maddening, and Qui-Gon could sense exasperation rolling off Anakin. “But you’ve got no proof, do you?”

“Once I catch that stupid bottle-”

Anakin made another attempt when the bottle danced teasingly within reach, only to have it zip through his fingers.

“Ooooh! This isn’t fair! You’ve got Jedi powers!”

Obi-Wan laughed, the sound echoing in the empty dining area, and Qui-Gon found himself staring. He had never known his apprentice to be so… _playful_ with anyone outside of his innermost circle of friends. He and Qui-Gon would tease back and forth incessantly; the moving bottle was something Qui-Gon had subjected Obi-Wan to on occasion, but to have this sort of attitude surface around people who were one step above strangers was unheard of.

_He really bonded with the boy,_ Qui-Gon thought as he watched Obi-Wan apologetically hand Anakin the wayward bottle, who snatched it up and frowned at the padawan. Obi-Wan softly asked for forgiveness when he saw the dark expression, and Qui-Gon smiled when Anakin crumbled and grinned.

“Promise you won’t tease like that again?”

“I promise,” Obi-Wan said solemnly, and Padmé was once again stifling giggles. “At least until you are able to fight back properly. Deal?”

Qui-Gon quirked an eyebrow at that. _–Know something I don’t, padawan?-_ he sent, but Obi-Wan merely brushed the comment aside.

“Deal!” Anakin replied enthusiastically and Obi-Wan ruffled his blond hair affectionately.

Qui-Gon blinked when he felt the Living Force swirl around the two, adding another layer to the bond that had unexpectedly formed, and broadcasting their emotions easily. Obi-Wan’s presence seemed to soothe Anakin’s in a way, perhaps explaining why the bond had formed in the first place, while Obi-Wan was brimming with happiness.

Again, there was the sense of _rightness_ , a warmth that enveloped the two, which made Qui-Gon smile.

Qui-Gon knew his apprentice. He knew how compassionate the young man could be, when he chose to let it show. Possibly the only thing that Qui-Gon regretted over the past few years was watching Obi-Wan build walls around himself, and every trying mission only made those walls stronger. It was wonderful to see him teasing and laughing, and Qui-Gon had a sneaking suspicion that they had those visions to thank for it, even with all the other alarming changes.

Nodding to himself a little, Qui-Gon set aside the datapad, resolving not to look at it for the rest of the meal, and joined in on the light-hearted mood.

If one of the cooks happened to glance up, or if another passenger entered and saw two grown Jedi, a handmaiden, and a boy playing tag in the dining area, who cared? Live in the moment, the Jedi said, and Qui-Gon intended to do so for as long as possible.

***


	8. Chapter Seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anakin and Obi-Wan have a chat, and Anakin makes a decision.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted on fanfiction.net in 2007.

***

Anakin sat in the maintenance bay, fiddling with a droid part and listening to the ship hum around him as it cruised through hyperspace. After a moment, he set the part aside and began scanning his immediate surroundings for a wrench he’d been using mere moments ago.

It had been several days since he’d left Tatooine, and even though a large part of him still felt like someone had ripped it out and stomped on it, the pain wasn’t quite as bad as it had been the first night. He no longer felt horribly sick for his home and mother, and he had a suspicion it was because of the Jedi, or more specifically, Obi-Wan. He and the two Jedi had slid into a comfortable routine over the past couple of days, and he found it was helping him adjust.

Each morning he woke when the Jedi had finished their meditation, and he joined them for their first meal. It made him happy when Padmé joined them as well, since she seemed to get up just as early as the Jedi did, and the four of them would laugh and talk the meal through. Anakin then spent the rest of his day either in the cockpit learning the controls of the ship, in the engine room studying the hyperdrive and the sublight engines, or in the maintenance bay working on random pieces of droids he found.

Through all of his small adventures, he dragged Obi-Wan, who actually seemed happy to join him. Of course Anakin had asked at first, (rather shyly too, he admitted with embarrassment) and he had been surprised by the yes he received. Obi-Wan must’ve noticed his stunned expression because the young man said, while winking subtly, that it would be a lot more fun than discussing politics with Qui-Gon and the queen.

The two had been nearly inseparable since, with Anakin never finding any reason to regret asking Obi-Wan along in the first place. It actually turned out to be one of his better decisions because being with the padawan allowed him access to places and people that would’ve otherwise been forbidden.

Yesterday had found the two of them crawling through the maintenance hatches surrounding the sublight drives, with Obi-Wan explaining the purpose and function of all the various machinery surrounding them. Anakin had to admit that the Jedi was pretty knowledgeable. He’d never expected Obi-Wan to know so much about machines, but he was quickly learning how much more there was to the padawan.

Whenever Anakin had a question, Obi-Wan was ready with an answer that actually made sense, and his manner of explaining was always calm and patient. He seemed to go out of his way to make sure that Anakin understood. Sometimes Obi-Wan would repeat himself in a different way because Anakin still looked confused, but he never got upset or seemed frustrated.

Anakin greatly appreciated the way the young man would smile whenever he caught the boy frowning, and he would then offer an alternative explanation that usually made more sense. Anakin had actually gotten himself banned from the cockpit when a certain pilot was on duty because he’d “asked too many questions.” Yet the reason he’d been asking in the first place was because the stupid pilot couldn’t be bothered to repeat himself when the answer was confusing.

Anakin was also beginning to think there wasn’t anything Obi-Wan didn’t know about. When he’d said so that day in the hatches, the Jedi had laughed and ruffled Anakin’s hair with his grease-covered hands.

“Thank you, Ani,” he’d said, smiling a smile that always made Anakin want to grin. “But as much as I don’t like admitting it, I’m not all-knowing. I don’t know what we’re having for evening meal, for example.”

“I can tell you that,” Anakin had replied as they shimmied out of the hatches. “It’ll be the same thing as last night, and the night before that, and the night before that: some kind of flavorless meat, with a synthetic vegetable, and more of those Corellian tubers. And you’ll have tea to drink and I’ll have more muja juice or water, depending on if I need something that tastes good.”

Obi-Wan had laughed again. “Proof that nutrition and flavor do not go hand in hand,” he’d said, bringing up a joke Anakin had made after being on the ship for a day, and that was how Qui-Gon had found them. The Jedi Master had blinked at their oil-covered garments and had cracked a smile before ordering them to clean up before they went to the galley.

Their daily routine concluded with Anakin grabbing some cushions and blankets from the maintenance bay before joining the Jedi in their quarters just as they finished their evening meditation. Then Obi-Wan would help him arrange his bed between the two sleep couches, and after a mug of that milk Obi-Wan had made for him (he was starting to like it a lot), he’d curl up in the padawan’s lap as they listened to a story from Qui-Gon, who, as far as Anakin was concerned, told the best tales.

Anakin was usually so sleepy from the milk that Qui-Gon’s deep voice and the sound of Obi-Wan’s steady heartbeat were enough to knock him out before the story had really started.

Then in the morning he’d wake, tucked in his blankets or curled up in Obi-Wan’s protective embrace if he’d had a nightmare, and the routine would begin again.

Anakin found the wrench he’d been looking for and returned to the droid part. It was a few hours after the midday meal, and as much as he’d wanted to poke around the cockpit some, the pilot who’d thrown him out was on duty. Obi-Wan had gone in to scout things out under the pretense of looking for a misplaced datapad, and when he’d returned with the information, Anakin had pouted a little in disappointment.

_Oh well_ , he sighed. There’d be other times for him to get another look at the cockpit, since they weren’t due to arrive at Coruscant for another few days.

The thought of the strange planet filled Anakin with a little thrill of anticipation. Even with the details he’d pestered Obi-Wan for, he still wasn’t sure what to expect, as he had no proper frame of reference for what a planet-wide city looked like. Part of him was imagining something like Mos Espa, only with really, really tall buildings, but he had a feeling that Coruscant didn’t have blistering heat waves or sand everywhere.

“Blast!” he whispered; he’d stripped one of the bolts in his attempt to remove it. He’d have to find a replacement somehow and hope that the grooves in the part itself hadn’t been too damaged.

“Something wrong, Ani?”

He glanced up at Obi-Wan, who lounged on the workbench Anakin nightly deprived of its cushions. The padawan looked up from a datapad, concern and curiosity shining in his blue-green eyes, and Anakin shrugged a little.

“Not really,” he said. “It’s nothing I can’t fix.”

Obi-Wan smiled and went back to his reading, leaving Anakin to sit back and mentally puzzle out the most likely location of spare parts. They were probably in one of the many storage bins they’d pushed to the side of the room so that Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan would have space for their daily exercises, which Qui-Gon was in the middle of running through. Anakin was being careful to keep out of the Jedi Master’s way and was sitting with his back against the base of the bench Obi-Wan occupied, parts spread meticulously around him.

“If you’re looking for new bolts, try the crate in the corner,” Obi-Wan said without looking up from his reading and Anakin grinned up at him in thanks. Obi-Wan answering an unspoken question was one of the first things Anakin had learned about the Jedi. He just _knew_ when Anakin was thinking something because Anakin broadcasted it through the Force simply by concentrating intently.

Even though the recommended crate did indeed have a bunch of spare parts and countless bolts to choose from, none of them suited Anakin’s needs. With a huff of impatience, he tossed the random parts back into the bin and made his way back to his seat, sticking to the edges of the room as he went.

“No luck?” Obi-Wan asked when Anakin plopped back down. The boy shook his head, watching as Qui-Gon executed a series of flips that he would’ve thought impossible in the confined space.

“None,” Anakin replied, his gaze shifting from the Jedi Master to Obi-Wan, who sat at an angle on the bench. His back was pressed against the corner of the bench while one arm draped along the top and his legs were bent so that they’d fit properly. Anakin was surprised that no one had yelled at him about putting his boots on a perfectly good cushion, but then again, who would yell at a Jedi?

“So what’re you readin’?” he asked and the padawan glanced up at him before scooting over and gesturing to the freed space.

“Take a look,” he responded as Anakin scrambled up beside him and tucked himself against the Jedi. “It’s nothing terribly exciting; just an old news report. But there is a small article about the podrace you won; they even mention you.”

“Really?” Anakin asked, his eyes widening as Obi-Wan placed a securing arm around him and held the datapad for him to read. Sure enough, there was the article, complete with a detailed account of the race and a small picture of him waving at the crowd. “Wizard! I’m famous! Too bad they misspelled my name, though I suppose I should be grateful that they even mentioned a former slave, huh?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Obi-Wan said, his eyes trained on the datapad. “From what I’ve heard it seems like a pretty big race, and they don’t mention your background anywhere. They just say how astounding it is that a Human was able to compete in the first place.”

Anakin felt something warm creep through him at Obi-Wan’s words. He was a person, a Human, even though he’d been a slave, and it made him happy that the article somehow hadn’t mentioned that part of the equation.

“Here, Ani, look at this,” Obi-Wan said, making him peer at the datapad. “It’s an article about the latest improvements to the stock snub fighter design. The Jedi have a private fleet of fighters like this that we use to get to wherever our missions might take us.”

Anakin opened his mouth to ask about them when he felt Obi-Wan stiffen and glance at Qui-Gon from the corner of his eye.

“Or rather, I think we ought to. Right now we’re stuck relying on commercial transports, which can be a bit of a hassle when you need to get to a planet in a hurry, or off it, for that matter,” Obi-Wan added, and Anakin felt him relax a notch when it became clear that Qui-Gon hadn’t noticed.

Anakin frowned at that; this was something Obi-Wan had been doing over the past couple of days, and he knew it happened only when the Jedi had let something slip. It also usually happened only when Qui-Gon was present, and Anakin got the strangest feeling that Obi-Wan was keeping something from his Master. The first real day on the ship, Anakin had awoken to them arguing, and occasionally he’d catch Qui-Gon watching Obi-Wan with a perplexed expression, or about as perplexed as a Jedi could seem.

However, as curious as it made him, it really wasn’t any of his business, so he always let the events slide.

“So what are the improvements?” Anakin asked, trying to get a better look at the datapad and distract Obi-Wan at the same time. “Does the article include some kind of schematic that you can look at?”

“Yes, but it’s not a truly detailed one,” Obi-Wan said, angling the datapad and scrolling down to the picture. “You’d have to pay for the kind of plans I’m sure you’re thinking of.”

Anakin made a face at that and Obi-Wan grinned down at him. “Sorry, Ani. You’ll just have to use your imagination.”

They sat for a while, discussing the plans in question, and eventually Obi-Wan scrolled to the next article in the datapad. It was one concerning a new bill that was being introduced into the Senate, whatever that meant, and Anakin watched Obi-Wan frown a little as he read the paragraph.

“It’s something bad?” he asked and felt Obi-Wan shrug as best he could, as he was stuck between Anakin and the back of the bench.

“Perhaps,” Obi-Wan said, still reading. “How familiar are you with the Republic’s form of government?”

“Um…” Anakin responded, biting his lower lip.

“Then I’ll try to explain it before I tell you about this article. There are three different branches that make up the Republic government: there’s the court system, the senatorial branch, and finally the Supreme Chancellor. The senatorial branch makes the laws we live by, the Supreme Chancellor decides which ones are truly relevant, and then the court system upholds those laws. Does that make sense?”

Anakin nodded, trying to visualize everything. Padmé and Obi-Wan waved at him from their place in the Senate, he saw Qui-Gon buried under datapads that had come from them, and Jar Jar ran around trying his hardest to get people to obey the laws that Qui-Gon had decided upon.

He didn’t seem to be doing a very good job, though…

“Within the Senate, which is made up of representatives from each Republic system, there are two different bodies, one of which votes on which proposals for laws get turned into bills, which get passed on to the other branch for a final vote. If that body decides that the bill is satisfactory, it gets passed on to the Supreme Chancellor, who makes the final vote. If he or she decides that the bill is all right, it gets made into a law.”

“How does anything get done?” Anakin asked, blinking up at Obi-Wan in shock. “There must be thousands of worlds, each with millions of people. How do they agree on anything?”

Obi-Wan smiled. “Oftentimes, they don’t agree, which leads to lots and lots of debates over sometimes the silliest little thing. That’s one of the reasons why the queen is so concerned; she’s afraid that her people will run out of time before she’s able to save them.”

“Oh,” Anakin replied, frowning. “But if it’s so hard to do things, then why do people keep the system around? Wouldn’t it make more sense to have one person? Things would get done faster that way.”

A strange look passed over Obi-Wan’s face, his smile fading and Anakin noticed that the padawan had tensed again.

“It… it might, Ani,” he said at last, his gaze drifting from the datapad down to Anakin, who began shifting slightly. He felt like Obi-Wan was scanning him, reaching deep into his soul and seeing everything.

Anakin had grown to love spending time with Obi-Wan, who seemed to radiate a warmth that reminded him of his mother, and at times it felt like he’d found the older brother he’d never known he’d wanted.

There were moments, though, when the warmth would vanish. Anakin would say something he thought was completely offhand and the Jedi would freeze, his eyes glazing over. It was more proof that Obi-Wan was hiding something, and the first time it had happened, Anakin had been given some clues about the nature of the secret.

The event had sent chills down Anakin’s spine, because when Obi-Wan had looked at him, his blue-green eyes had melted to a misty grey that held horrible, flickering shadows. Anakin had only ever seen the look on the most tortured soul, and there had been plenty of those among the slaves. He’d even caught the expression on his mother from time to time, her shoulders drooping under some unknown burden and her eyes brimming with sorrow.

It was the look that told of a deep wound of loss, which appeared only when the pain grew too strong to be contained.

He hadn’t been able to speak when Obi-Wan had fixed him with that gaze, so instead he’d done what he did whenever his mother had looked like that: he’d hugged the Jedi as tightly as he could.

To his surprise, Obi-Wan hadn’t objected. He’d returned the hug fiercely, as though he were starved for the gesture.

“What did you lose?” he’d asked quietly, finally finding his voice and trying to help in the only way he knew how.

“Everything,” came the whisper, startling him.

Then Obi-Wan had turned away, apologizing for scaring him, but Anakin had seen the Jedi in a completely different light since then. Beneath the happiness and the genuine kindness he somehow sensed rolling off Obi-Wan, there was a black undercurrent of a sadness and a grief so deep that Anakin was surprised it hadn’t consumed the Jedi.

How he remained so strong despite it was incredible, and after realizing its presence, Anakin was also surprised to note that he seemed to make it shrink whenever he was near.

So he’d stayed with the Jedi as much as possible, strangely pleased that his presence could be a comfort to someone.

“But think about it for a moment.”

Obi-Wan was talking again, the look shoved out of the way for a while, and Anakin pulled his mind from its thoughts to focus on the Jedi’s words. “Would you really want one person telling everyone in the entire galaxy what to do? Do you even like it when just one person bosses you around, when you have no say in it at all? Yes, things would get done faster, but is it really worth giving up your voice? Is it worth the threat of corruption?”

“Hm,” Anakin responded. That side of the suggestion hadn’t occurred to him.

“And yes, every type of government is vulnerable to corruption, but at least with this system, it stands less of a chance because of that disagreement,” Obi-Wan added, and Anakin nodded a little, trying to wrap his mind around the ideas that were being presented. “As for the article, it’s about a bill that would limit the Jedi’s involvement in general negotiations, from peace settlements to land disputes.”

“But why would anyone want to stop you guys from helping people?” Anakin asked, startled by the information.

“There are many who feel that the Jedi’s presence is unnecessary and would like to see us completely disband,” Obi-Wan said, his tone a touch sad. “They say that even though we claim to be peace keepers, our Council would like to see the entire Republic answer to them alone. They don’t understand that Jedi don’t seek power; we seek to ensure balance.”

As Obi-Wan spoke, Anakin felt his heart contract strangely at the mentioning of the mysterious Jedi Council, and he sensed that Obi-Wan was looking at him. “Is something bothering you, Ani?”

“What…” He met Obi-Wan’s questioning gaze before looking away.

“What will happen once we reach Coruscant?” he finally asked, voicing the fear that had been growing in him for a while. He felt Obi-Wan shift and then draw him closer, the Jedi’s arm tightening around his shoulders.

“Well, once we land, the queen and the rest of her party will most likely meet with the Chancellor. As for Qui-Gon and me, we’ll be called before the Council to report on our mission to Naboo. But you’re worried about what will happen to you,” he said and Anakin gave him a small nod. “I can’t say for certain, but I’m betting you’ll come with us, so the Council can meet with you and test you.”

“T-Test me?” he whispered, freezing in sudden fear. “What does that mean?”

“It’s not going to hurt, if that’s what you’re afraid of,” Obi-Wan said, smiling at him. “They’ll probably run a guessing game of sorts, asking you to tell them what’s on a datapad that you can’t see. And then they’ll probably ask you some questions, to try and see what kind of person you are.”

“Like if I’m good or bad? That kind of thing?” he asked, a note of apprehension leaking into his words, and Obi-Wan glanced at him with a reassuring smile.

“I think it’s more about the type of personality you have,” he replied and Anakin bit his lip as he thought. “Like how you would respond in certain situations; if you’re quick to anger or aggression when attacked, or if you respond calmly and defensively.”

“And if they decide I’m too quick to anger?” he asked, the note back, and Obi-Wan set aside the datapad so he could wrap both his arms around Anakin, who couldn’t help clinging back tightly. “What happens if they decide not to train me?”

“Let Qui-Gon and me worry about that,” he said. “You’re still just a little boy, Ani. Let those who promised to take care of you do so, and focus on the present.”

_Focus on the present,_ he repeated to himself.

“When I meet the Council, Obi-Wan, I’ll do my best to respond like a Jedi,” he said softly, and the arms around him tightened in encouragement. “I’ll stay calm, no matter what they ask, and I’ll make sure to think about all the sides to their questions. I won’t give them a reason to say I shouldn’t be trained.”

“I know,” Obi-Wan said.

_You have a good heart and a kind soul,_ came the foreign thought, and Anakin blinked a little. Somehow, it sounded like Obi-Wan.

“Don’t worry, Ani. Qui-Gon and I will handle everything.”

Anakin found himself leaning more and more heavily against the Jedi, his eyelids steadily drooping as he continued to listen. Obi-Wan’s gentle, even tone grew blurrier with each passing word, and his head lolled against the padawan’s shoulder…

“Ani?”

He jerked upright, blinking groggily when he found Obi-Wan smiling down at him. He silently noted that he was still curled up against the Jedi, except his hands had fisted around the padawan’s tunic and his head had been pressed against the other’s chest.

“I’m sorry to wake you, but it’s my turn for exercises and I couldn’t get free,” Obi-Wan said and Anakin let go, feeling embarrassment roll through him.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, earning an affectionate hair-ruffle as Obi-Wan slid off the bench.

“It’s all right. No harm done,” Obi-Wan said with an easy grin, one that helped to calm the shame that Anakin felt. “Go back to your nap. I have a feeling that your body is still adjusting to the Coruscant sleep cycle.”

He nodded as Obi-Wan set up for his exercises, or katas as they were apparently called, and found that he’d much rather watch than sleep at the moment.

When Obi-Wan executed some of the most graceful motions Anakin had ever seen, an expression of utter tranquility present on the padawan’s face, he began to wonder if he would ever learn to move so fluidly.

_I will,_ Anakin thought suddenly, his lips tightening in determination. _Then no one will ever associate me with Ani the slave. I’ll be Anakin Skywalker, best Jedi Knight in the galaxy, and no one will consider me worthless again._

***


	9. Chapter Eight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The party arrives on Coruscant, and Obi-Wan draws undue attention to himself. He and Qui-Gon have yet another chat, and Qui-Gon's knowledge of the situation deepens.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted to fanfiction.net in 2007.

***

Obi-Wan stood beside Qui-Gon in the cockpit of the ship, with Anakin peering over the pilot’s shoulder in an attempt to get a better look at Coruscant. Thankfully neither the pilot nor the copilot were the one who’d told Anakin off about asking questions, so the boy was free to talk as much as he liked.

At the moment though, talking was the last thing on Anakin’s mind. He was too busy gawking at the gleaming planet before him.

“Wizard!” Obi-Wan heard the boy exclaim and he allowed himself a small smile.

_-Happy he’s enjoying himself, padawan?-_ Qui-Gon sent along their bond and Obi-Wan nodded a little, trying to remember how he’d felt the last time he and Qui-Gon had returned to Coruscant. Unfortunately, Obi-Wan could only recall his irritation over his Master bringing Anakin along, and he strove to squash that memory.

_-And I’m glad we’re not being shot at. Do you think it would be too much to hope for a safe landing?-_ he sent back and heard Qui-Gon’s chuckle through their link.

_-Still don’t like flying, do you, padawan?-_ Qui-Gon asked with a wry twist to his lips.

_-I like flying, Master, as long as we’re safe in hyperspace. It’s what tends to happen once we’re in normal space that I don’t care for,-_ Obi-Wan sent, fixing Qui-Gon with a particularly annoyed look. _–And I prefer to be in control of the craft.-_

_-So you can quickly respond to any disasters that might occur,-_ Qui-Gon finished, and Obi-Wan looked back to the planet. _–But I sense there is something more that is bothering you, my padawan.-_

That observation was always a statement, and came paired with the unspoken command for Obi-Wan to share his problems.

_–It’s about Anakin, Master,-_ he began, his gaze drifting to the boy.

_-What about him? Have you noticed something during the time you spent together?-_ Qui-Gon asked, and Obi-Wan almost quirked an eyebrow impertinently at his Master. Even though the other Jedi’s mental tone was as calm as his face, Obi-Wan could sense a very faint flicker of annoyance that Qui-Gon was striving to release quietly into the Force.

_-I just wanted to know what was going to happen to him once we reach the planet’s surface,-_ Obi-Wan asked, curious to as why Qui-Gon would react as he was, and Obi-Wan felt Qui-Gon’s annoyance grow. _–He asked me about it a few days ago and I told him not to worry about it.-_

_-And you did not take this to me immediately?-_ Qui-Gon asked, and Obi-Wan had to quickly shield his own flash of annoyance. His Master’s tone, though a touch snappish, should not have irked him so. _–We could have discussed this then instead of now, when it is almost too late.-_

_-Forgive me for neglecting my duties, Master,-_ Obi-Wan sent in a manner he hoped was soothing, bowing his head and dropping his gaze to the floor. _–I couldn’t find you right after it occurred, and I felt I had to keep an eye on Anakin, as you were most likely advising the queen and no one else could be spared.-_

There was a small pause of silence, broken only by the faint hum of machinery and Anakin’s exclamations of delight.

_-I am not upset with you, padawan,-_ Qui-Gon said at last, uttering a small mental sigh. _–The question you raised is one I have been struggling with for a while now. I dare not ask the queen to include him in her entourage, as I have already requested that she take Jar Jar, and I feel that I can not ask for more.-_

_-And Anakin happens to be a rather active child,-_ Obi-Wan added, eliciting another mental sigh from Qui-Gon. _–He would be bored to tears without the ability to explore everything to his heart’s content, even if Padmé were watching out for him.-_

_-Speaking from experience, are we?-_ Qui-Gon asked, a faint smile quirking his lips.

_-You did find us crawling around in the engine room, Master,-_ he sent back. _–It kept him out from under people’s feet and I knew he’d find it interesting.-_

_-True.-_

Obi-Wan glanced at Qui-Gon briefly and lifted an eyebrow. _–Master, is this your roundabout way of leading me to an answer of my own question?-_

“Obi-Wan, it looks just like you said!”

Anakin’s happy exclamation and playful tug on the sleeve of his robe jerked him from the conversation and he smiled back at the grinning boy.

“You three better go strap yourselves in for the landing,” the pilot said and Anakin gave a groan of disappointment.

“You mean I can’t watch?”

“’Fraid not, kiddo,” the copilot said. “We’ve only got two seats up here, and we can’t have you gettin’ tossed around if the landing gets tough.”

Anakin frowned, pouting, even though he knew the man was right. He glanced up when Obi-Wan laid a hand on his shoulder, his frown fading, and Obi-Wan watched him sigh.

“All right,” Anakin said. “Maybe next time.”

“Come on, Ani,” Obi-Wan said quietly, holding out his hand, and Anakin slid his into it as they left the cockpit. “Landings and take-offs are the hardest part of flying; you know that.”

“Yeah,” Anakin said with another sigh. “I had a feeling they wouldn’t let me stay, but I thought I’d ask anyway.”

Obi-Wan squeezed his hand as they reached their seats, and blinked when he heard Qui-Gon clear his throat over their link.

_-You were saying something before we were interrupted, padawan?-_ Qui-Gon sent and Obi-Wan smirked a little.

_-You want me to offer to watch out for Anakin while we’re here,-_ he sent back, no question present in his mental tone, and he watched as Qui-Gon’s eyebrows quirked slightly.

_-You really are growing more perceptive, padawan. Or perhaps it’s more impudent?-_ Qui-Gon replied as they sat, buckling their safety belts, and Obi-Wan worked to restrain a grin.

_-What can I say, Master? I’ve had the best role models, especially when you consider that one defies the Council every chance he gets,-_ he jabbed and Qui-Gon rolled his eyes.

_-Cheeky little brat,-_ Qui-Gon sent, though not without the customary rush of affection, and Obi-Wan finally grinned. _–I raise you for twelve long years, and this is the kind of respect I get?-_

_-Only what you deserve, dear Master mine,-_ Obi-Wan replied. _–Do you want to tell Anakin, or should I?-_

“Anakin?” Qui-Gon said, answering Obi-Wan’s question and drawing the boy’s attention. “Once we land, I want you to stick close to Obi-Wan until further notice. I’ve put him in charge of your care when I’m unable to look after you myself, which I’m afraid might be for a while.”

“That’s all right, Mister Qui-Gon, sir,” Anakin said, smiling. “I don’t mind.”

“Good.”

A few short minutes and one relatively smooth landing later, Obi-Wan freed himself from his safety belt, and the three of them made for the main hatch. Anakin was adjusting his backpack, nervousness curling into the Force around him, and Obi-Wan threw him a reassuring smile. The hatch finally hissed open, and they marched down it easily, heading for the small welcoming party that stood a short distance away.

When Obi-Wan saw who it consisted of, he froze.

_Palpatine,_ his mind hissed, a cold, sickening anger twisting in his gut. His vision narrowed on the aging man, who stood prepared to meet them with a ready smile.

Palpatine was dripping with wealth, just as Obi-Wan remembered, dressed in Naboo finery of a deep, royal purple, the fabric cut from the richest silk credits could furnish. His cool, blue gaze studied each of them in turn, settling on Obi-Wan perhaps a little longer than the rest, as Obi-Wan was most likely glaring at the senator.

It took every shred of self-control Obi-Wan possessed not to snatch up his lightsaber and hack the man in two. Here was the man who had led Anakin to darkness, who had gobbled up rule of the Republic, who had ordered the armies to turn on their Jedi generals…

And he could do _nothing_.

_-Padawan?-_

Obi-Wan started at Qui-Gon’s concerned brush and realized that he was the only one not bowing politely to their greeters. Instead, he’d fixed Senator Palpatine with a steady stare; one the man was returning while attempting to look confused.

“Is something wrong, Padawan Kenobi?” the other member of the party asked, a man Obi-Wan dimly recognized as Supreme Chancellor Valorum. “You seem out of sorts, young Jedi. Is everything all right?”

Obi-Wan could feel Qui-Gon’s concerned, yet calculating stare burning into his skin, and he forced himself to set aside everything he remembered. He released his anger, dropping his gaze in hopes that cutting off visual contact would make it disappear more quickly, and he dipped his head in a low, respectful bow.

“Forgive me Chancellor, Senator,” Obi-Wan said quietly, knowing they would hear. “I fear my latest bouts of insomnia have indeed made me rather unwell. I haven’t been myself and I apologize for my disrespect.”

“It’s all right, padawan,” the chancellor said with a warm smile and Obi-Wan stepped aside when he sensed the queen and her party were descending the ramp. He took his place to Qui-Gon’s right, with Anakin moving to stand on his right, and he loosed one of his hands from his sleeves so that he could offer it to the boy.

Anakin took it and squeezed it gently, giving him a concerned look. “You seemed really angry about something,” Anakin whispered up to him as the queen greeted the chancellor and Senator Palpatine warmly. “You sure you’re okay?”

_-A valid question, Obi-Wan,-_ Qui-Gon’s mental voice rumbled through the bond and Obi-Wan couldn’t help the sigh that escaped. _–What happened just now? What in the world could make you so angry?-_

“I’m all right, Ani,” he whispered back, squeezing the boy’s hand gently in return. “I’ll tell you about it later.”

_-Was I glaring at anyone?-_ Obi-Wan asked, and he sensed Qui-Gon’s frown at the strange question.

_-What are you aiming at, padawan? No, you were not glaring at anyone, but all of us could sense your anger; even Anakin, who hasn’t even been properly trained.-_

An unexpected burst of relief filled Obi-Wan and he drew a deep, calming breath. _–Master, I’ll explain when I share those visions with you.-_

Qui-Gon glanced at him sharply, his blue eyes narrowing. _–I grow tired of this, Obi-Wan; those visions have become an excuse for every action I find disturbing. Such anger is dangerous; you know that.-_

_Better than anyone, I’m willing to bet,_ Obi-Wan thought, ignoring the rest of Qui-Gon’s lecture, and he earned himself a sharp, mental swat.

_-What was that, padawan?-_

Obi-Wan gritted his teeth and drew another deep breath. When he released it, he blew out his mounting frustration, quiet calm replacing the emotion. _–Nothing, Master. I was simply thinking about your warnings and reflecting on my actions.-_

_-Of course you were,-_ Qui-Gon sent back, sarcasm dripping from the words, and Obi-Wan half-expected a “and I’m the King of Hoth” response to follow it. _–Then would you mind telling me the conclusions you came to?-_

_Stars_ , was this how Anakin had felt whenever Obi-Wan had started in on _another_ lecture about controlling one’s emotions?

_–I will meditate on this once we reach the Temple, Master. There is no excuse for my slip, and I apologize for disrespecting you through my actions,-_ he sent, along with a healthy dose of remorse that he didn’t quite feel, and he sensed Qui-Gon stumble a little.

Just as Obi-Wan had expected. He knew that if Anakin had fed him a line like that, he probably would’ve been in shock for a week. Or demanding that Anakin have his head examined…

After all, padawans weren’t supposed to willingly volunteer for meditation.

_-That is…well, a mature response that I had not expected, Obi-Wan,-_ Qui-Gon sent, not bothering to hide his surprise. _–And…-_

“Master Jinn?”

The chancellor’s voice broke into their conversation and Obi-Wan watched his master start a little before finally focusing on the man.

“Yes, Chancellor?”

_-Don’t go thinking you’ve escaped, Obi-Wan. We will discuss this later, whether you like it or not,-_ Qui-Gon sent before giving all his attention to Chancellor Valorum, who watched the Jedi curiously. Obi-Wan, in the meantime, glanced after the party that was heading for an air taxi, his gaze locking onto Senator Palpatine’s retreating form.

This time Obi-Wan successfully wrestled his anger into the Force before it gave Qui-Gon any reason for alarm. He then reached out mentally to carefully probe the edges of the senator’s presence. As powerful in the Dark Side as the man had been, he surely would’ve had trouble masking it.

Right when Obi-Wan caught a flash of the evil he was searching for, Palpatine’s body went rigid and he turned, his gaze flicking to the Jedi. Obi-Wan gazed back at him, remaining utterly calm even when the senator’s gaze locked with his.

_Silly little Jedi,_ the Force whispered, a deep chill brushing up against Obi-Wan. He slammed up his tightest shields so forcefully that Qui-Gon started, the elder Jedi’s sentence jerking slightly.

_What were you seeking? What proof did you hope to find?_

Obi-Wan felt his jaw tighten, but otherwise he remained serene.

Yet when the senator’s gaze shifted down, his eyes undoubtedly falling on Anakin, Obi-Wan couldn’t help tensing.

_I won’t let you have him, Sith,_ Obi-Wan thought, watching Palpatine’s gaze drift back to him. Obi-Wan almost stepped in front the boy to block him from sight, but he remained absolutely still. _I won’t let you corrupt him like you did before._

After what seemed like an eternity, Senator Palpatine turned away and slid into the air taxi, the door slamming shut behind him. Obi-Wan felt himself relax as they flew away, and only once they were completely out of sight did he lower his shields.

It still wasn’t much, however, as his suspicious side was not willing to take any chances.

It was then he realized that Anakin had a death grip on his hand, and his gaze snapped to the boy in concern.

“Ani?” he whispered, as Qui-Gon and the chancellor were still talking. “What’s wrong? You’re shaking!”

“C-Cold…” the boy whispered back, dropping Obi-Wan’s hand so he could rub his upper arms vigorously. “S-so… c-cold…”

Obi-Wan quickly knelt before the boy to draw him into an embrace, lending Anakin some of his body heat. The boy shivered against him, his body trembling like a leaf and his teeth chattering. Obi-Wan did a quick scan only to find nothing out of the ordinary, and he frowned.

“Ani? What happened?” he asked quietly, and felt the boy shrug.

“Dunno,” Anakin whispered back, his teeth chattering less. “I f-felt something, c-can’t explain it. This dark f-feeling touched m-me.”

_Palpatine must’ve done something,_ Obi-Wan thought, shutting his eyes and opening himself to the Force. He let it flood his body and then he gently reached out for Anakin’s brilliant presence, brushing away any residue of the darkness. They seemed to hiss when he touched them, crumbling to ash when faced with the Light.

“Better?” he asked once he’d finished, and Anakin nodded, looking surprised that his shivers had stopped.

“What’d you do?”

“Anakin, Obi-Wan,” Qui-Gon’s voice broke into their conversation, and Obi-Wan glanced up to find his Master frowning down at him.

“I was going to tell you that we need to leave for the Temple, but I suppose I should ask what happened first,” he added, fixing Obi-Wan with a stare.

“Anakin was cold, Master,” Obi-Wan said as he stood, talking hold of Anakin’s hand once more. “Didn’t you feel the Darkness that brushed up against us?”

“I did, padawan,” Qui-Gon responded, his frown softening as he thought. “And it is our duty to report it to the Council. Now come.”

All three bowed respectfully to the chancellor before entering another air taxi, and Qui-Gon gave the droid pilot their destination. Previous scare forgotten, Anakin (who’d been buckled in the seat between the two Jedi) began to crane his neck to peer out at everything. Sensing the boy’s disappointment at being unable to see anything, Obi-Wan reached over and undid Anakin’s safety belt. Slightly surprised when he didn’t sense a flash of alarm from Qui-Gon, he drew Anakin into his lap, which allowed the boy a perfect view of the passing city.

_-Master?-_ Obi-Wan queried, concerned, and he tapped ever so gently on Qui-Gon’s shields.

“Wow! Did you see that, Obi-Wan? That guy was at least three meters tall! How does he get into buildings?” Anakin said, interrupting any response Qui-Gon might’ve made. Obi-Wan, however, was beginning to feel distinctly unnerved by the dead silence over the bond, and he quickly thought of a way to keep Anakin from interrupting too often.

“How about we play a game, Ani?” Obi-Wan said, remembering something he’d seen a family do during a long transport ride, and the boy looked up at him with a grin. “The Temple is still a ways off, so I’ll think we’ll have plenty of time to play.”

“Sure!” Anakin replied enthusiastically. “What do you do? What are the rules?”

“It’s called the Aurebesh game, and what we do is hunt for words on street signs or advertisements that start with the letters of the alphabet. For example, we start by looking for a word that begins with ‘aurek’, and once we find one, then we move on to one that starts with ‘besh’,” he said, watching Anakin consider the rules. “The one who finds the words the fastest is the winner of the round, and the one who finds the most over all words is the winner of the game. Think you can beat me?”

“You’re on!” Anakin said, his gaze snapping to the window. “Ha! ‘Any’!”

“Hm, ‘bothan’,” he said, sensing Anakin’s flash of disappointment. “And there’s ‘Coruscant’. That’s two for me.”

_-Master?-_ Obi-Wan tried again, and he felt a heavy sigh roll through the bond. _–Is everything all right?-_

_-Of course, padawan,-_ Qui-Gon finally replied as Anakin snagged two more points with ‘digger’ and ‘eggs’. Obi-Wan got the next one, however, with ‘fresh’. _–Considering I feel like you’re hiding something that I really ought to know, we just brushed up against the most powerful Dark force I’ve ever sensed, and you just lost control of your temper in a way you haven’t since you were twelve. Have I left anything out?-_

Obi-Wan threw Qui-Gon a surprised frown, completely missing Anakin’s gleeful shout as he netted three more points. _–Master, all of this has a good explanation…-_

_-One that I would absolutely_ love _to hear!-_ Qui-Gon snapped across the bond, his frustration and ire broadcasting easily, and even Anakin quit gloating when he realized that something was happening between the two Jedi. _–You have been dangling that damn excuse in front of me for everything, and I think it’s high time I got some actual answers! No more promises to tell me when you’re ready!-_

Obi-Wan was glad he was sitting down, as he certainly hadn’t expected his Master’s heated response. Anakin was tugging on his sleeve, and Obi-Wan blinked down at the boy, who stared up at him in concern.

“Yes, Ani? Which letter are we on?”

“Um, ‘krill’, I think,” he said, glancing between Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon with a small frown. “Is something going on?”

“Yes,” Obi-Wan said, sighing a little. “But trust me, you’re better off not bothering with it. Master Qui-Gon and I are just trying to sort some things out. By the way, ‘king’, ‘let’s’, and ‘mother’. Oh, and ‘no’.”

“What? Hey! I wasn’t paying attention!” Anakin yelped, spinning back to the window, and frowning in concentration.

“There’s an ‘of’, Ani, and a ‘player’.”

“Not fair! Where are you finding this stuff?”

Obi-Wan chuckled slightly and let his consciousness drift back to the bond, where Qui-Gon waited. He could almost see the Jedi Master with his arms folded over his chest, tapping a finger against his bicep rapidly, and his face molded into the stoniest expression possible. The part of Obi-Wan that had always remained Qui-Gon’s padawan cringed and nearly fell to the ground, begging for forgiveness, but the rest of him merely sighed.

_-If I didn’t know your Force-presence as well as I do, Obi-Wan, I would swear you were a completely different person,-_ Qui-Gon sent, his tone dark with irritation. _–What am I going to do with you? You argue with me, something you did do before, I grant you, but never over anything this important. You willfully ignore my commands, and then you go and do something I never expected from someone as well trained as you are. Your behavior is disturbing, padawan, and I want answers.-_

Obi-Wan sighed again, leaving Anakin to search for ‘qek’ on his own. _–Master, I want you to look at me.-_

_-Obi-Wan,-_ Qui-Gon started, huffing in frustration, but Obi-Wan stunned the Jedi Master into silence with a sharp look.

_-I mean it, Master. Look at me, really_ look _at me. Look at my Force-presence and tell me what you see. I’ll drop most of my shields so you’ll be certain that I’m not tricking you in any way.-_

He could feel Qui-Gon grudgingly comply, the man’s curiosity overruling his irritation at being ordered around by his own apprentice. Obi-Wan lowered as many of his shields as he dared, including the blocks he’d put up to make his presence appear as it had when he’d been twenty-five, and he felt Qui-Gon start poking at him.

At first, it was an unmistakably sullen touch, but then he sensed the Jedi Master draw himself up sharply, his physical gaze snapping to Obi-Wan.

_-This is impossible,-_ Qui-Gon sent, and Obi-Wan met his gaze steadily. He could feel fear flickering behind his Master’s shields, Qui-Gon’s eyes darkening to a midnight hue, and Obi-Wan shook his head.

_-Have I ever lied to you? Would the Force lie to you?-_ he sent and watched Qui-Gon sink into the cushions of the seat, his knuckles whitening as he clenched his fists. _–It’s the truth, and you know it. You can feel it.-_

Qui-Gon shut his eyes then, and when he reopened them, his gaze fell on Anakin, who was practically sitting on Obi-Wan’s knees in his attempt to find a word that started with ‘qek’ first. Obi-Wan could feel the gears turning in his Master’s head, and when Qui-Gon lifted his eyes to meet Obi-Wan’s, there was a sad gleam to them.

_-He was your padawan in the visions, wasn’t he.-_

Obi-Wan didn’t answer, merely letting Qui-Gon probe him for any reaction. Obi-Wan kept himself blank, hiding any shudders the statement invoked behind the thickest shielding he could muster.

_-What happened to him? Why didn’t I train him as I…-_

Obi-Wan watched realization flicker across Qui-Gon’s face as he put the pieces together and then shut his eyes again.

_-I’ll tell you everything, Master, once the Council decides Anakin’s fate,-_ Obi-Wan sent. _–When are they going to meet with him?-_

Qui-Gon sighed and thought for a moment. _–Tomorrow, at the earliest. Our meeting with them isn’t for another five hours, which was the fastest they could see us. I plan to tell them of Anakin and the warrior we faced then.-_

_-What about that presence a little bit ago? And what are you going to say about my visions?-_ Obi-Wan asked as the air taxi turned a corner and his heart leapt to his throat. There, at the end of the skyline, was the Jedi Temple, its five spires gleaming in the Coruscant sun. It was exactly how he remembered, the damage wrought by the clone troops gone, and it was beautiful once more.

_-I’ll be reporting on the presence, certainly. But I have no idea what to say about your visions, so I planned to meditate on it during the break,-_ Qui-Gon replied as Anakin gasped.

“Is… is that the Jedi Temple?” he whispered to Obi-Wan, who nodded. “It’s incredible!”

“Welcome to my home, Ani,” Obi-Wan whispered back, and Anakin pressed his face against the transparisteel, trying to get the best possible look at the temple.

“And hopefully my new home,” Anakin said, and Obi-Wan unconsciously tightened his arms around the boy.

_-What are you doing to do with the break, padawan?-_ Qui-Gon asked, his tone forced to be as nonchalant as possible, and Obi-Wan could sense he was struggling to mend the chasm that somehow had opened up between them. Part of Obi-Wan broke at the sensation, and he reached out to his Master, trying to convey how deeply he regretted having to hide everything from him. He felt Qui-Gon sigh in response, but the man sent back a gentle reassurance.

_-Master, if you knew what I saw, nothing would be objective for you anymore,-_ he sent, feeling Qui-Gon mull that piece of information over. _–That’s why I ask you at least to wait until after the Council has given its final say on Anakin. Then we can put what the visions showed me to good use.-_

Qui-Gon glanced up sharply, his gaze narrowing as he scrutinized his apprentice. _–You saw him turn, didn’t you.-_

_-I said I’d tell you once the Council has given their say,-_ Obi-Wan sent and, much to the annoyance of his Master, he remained utterly blank as he met Qui-Gon’s stare. _–As for my answer to your first question, I was planning on taking Anakin for some sight-seeing. That way if the Council decides not to train him, he won’t regret not seeing some of Coruscant, and he won’t have gotten too attached to the idea of living at the Temple.-_

_-That sounds like an excellent idea, padawan,-_ Qui-Gon replied, and Obi-Wan could sense his Master’s surprise. He wasn’t able to figure out over what, however, because Anakin’s happy shout jolted them from their thoughts.

“We’ve landed!” Anakin cried, bouncing up and down in excitement on Obi-Wan’s legs. They pulled up to the Temple and Anakin was the first one out, hopping out onto the landing pad. Obi-Wan followed, Anakin’s pack in hand.

“This is great!” Anakin said as Qui-Gon paid their fare and exited. Obi-Wan watched the air taxi fly off, his eyes sweeping across the both familiar and unfamiliar skyline, noting several differences between the one he remembered and the one he saw before him. Had things begun to change already?

“Obi-Wan? Aren’t you coming?”

He glanced down at the tug on his hand, and smiled when he found Anakin beaming up at him. “Of course, Ani. Let’s put your stuff down, and then I thought we could go explore Coruscant for a little while. How does that sound?”

Anakin’s eyes widened at the suggestion. “Absolutely wizard!”

“Are you hungry, Ani?” he asked as they started up the wide stairs that led to the main temple doors. Qui-Gon was already at the top, waiting for them, and Obi-Wan swore he saw a small smile cross his Master’s face as he watched them. They must’ve cut a pretty funny picture, he thought, a little boy practically pulling a full-grown man up a flight of stairs.

“When am I not?” Anakin responded, tugging on his hand to make him go faster.

“Good, because I know you’ll love where we’re going for lunch.”

***

The afternoon Coruscant sun crept along its path, shining brightly on the planet. Tourists, residents, smugglers, businessmen… all types of people walked the streets of the city, chatting, planning, laughing, teasing, and generally enjoying themselves. The light touched as much as it could, brightening the atmosphere, but there were some places its soothing rays couldn’t reach. High above the general populous, two shadows met, their combined presence driving a chill into the air.

“Forgive my failure, Master,” the taller shadow hissed, dropping to one knee before the shorter, darker shadow, who stood in silence for a good while, studying the other.

“It is forgiven,” the second shadow rasped at last. “Our enemy is resourceful and extremely adept at running.”

“Then your new orders, my Master?” the first shadow asked promptly.

“Yes, I did mention something about a new target, didn’t I?” the second shadow mused. “Rise, my apprentice, and walk with me.” The first shadow complied quickly. “The queen is playing into our hands; she need not be worried about until the next stage begins.”

The first shadow remained silent, waiting for the next part.

“Now tell me, have you ever heard of a Jedi named Obi-Wan Kenobi?”

“He is a padawan, my master, apprenticed to Qui-Gon Jinn,” the first shadow responded. “Twenty-five standard years old, he went unclaimed as a padawan because of his temper until it was almost too late. Mediocre skills in negotiation, healing; lacks any skill in flying. Excels in saber compared to his age-mates, but is far from any truly acceptable level. Overall, a general, weak Jedi.”

“And if I told you he was the new target?”

The first shadow didn’t bat an eyelash. “What do you wish done, my master?”

“I sense that there has been a great shift in him. His Force-presence now runs more deeply than all but two of the Jedi on that pathetic Council, and I believe he is easily the equal of one of them,” the second shadow said, a small smile twisting his lips. “Bring him before me, relatively unharmed, so that I might speak with him. He sees more than a normal padawan should, finding Darkness where others do not, and I would like to know _why_.”

“Is he truly that dangerous, Master?”

Another twisted smile. “He _is_ a potential threat, my apprentice. If it turns out to be nothing, you may kill him as you wish. But if it does not…” The smile grew. “I intend to unlock his secrets. I sense he might hold the key to my final goal.”

***


	10. Chapter Nine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Obi-Wan deals with memories of the Temple and the destruction he remembers; meanwhile, Qui-Gon has a chat with Yoda and Mace regarding Obi-Wan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted to fanfiction.net in 2007.

***

“ _This_ is your apartment?”

Obi-Wan glanced down at Anakin, who’d frozen the moment they’d walked through the door. His hand, still firmly gripping Obi-Wan, had stopped the Jedi as well, and Obi-Wan smiled a little.

“This place is awesome! It’s a million times better than anything on Tatooine!” Anakin exclaimed, and Obi-Wan glanced up at the room, his gaze flicking over the familiar sight and his heart constricting painfully. “You’ve got the nicest furniture and you’ve even got a balcony so you can watch the sunset!”

They did indeed, though Obi-Wan held his tongue about the furniture. It was all standard Jedi-issue, which certainly was nice, but it was a far cry from being the best. Obi-Wan had destroyed two of their previous couches through various attempts at gymnastics, both of which had landed him more kitchen duty than he cared to admit, but he still swore that it wasn’t his fault. They just didn’t make couches properly; surely the designers knew that the couch was going to be bounced on.

Which was exactly what Anakin happened to be doing.

“Wizard!” the boy exclaimed, flopping down at last and scanning his surroundings.

The apartment overall was small, with a common area, a small kitchen, a ’fresher unit, and two bedrooms. The ’fresher and the bedrooms could be found down a narrow hall on Obi-Wan’s right, which was positioned after the entryway closet but before the bulk of the common space.

The entryway Obi-Wan stood in opened on a small landing with uncarpeted floor, allowing the occupants and visitors alike a moment to remove their boots. The rest of the apartment, save the kitchen and the ’fresher, was carpeted with a thin, dark brown material, and the walls were a simple white that easily stained. Obi-Wan remembered spending many afternoons with both Qui-Gon and later, Anakin, scrubbing at the dirt he wasn’t sure how had gotten there. He usually wound up peeling the paint from the walls because the cleaner he used was too powerful.

The common area made up the larger part of their quarters, and was really one giant square of a room that had been divided up into sections with the furniture. A sitting area was a few paces away from the entry, with a large couch pressed up against the right-hand wall and flanked by two end tables. Two thickly cushioned armchairs sat across from it, partitioning the sitting area from the dining area, which was simply a large table made of a dark, rich wood that came complete with four matching chairs.

The centerpiece that sat in the middle of the table surprised all who were unfamiliar with the two Jedi: it was a large, shallow bowl of pale red clay, filled to the brim with polished river rocks. Obi-Wan had presented it to Qui-Gon as a birthday joke the year after the Jedi Master had given him his river rock, and after the laughter died down, they’d given it its place of honor.

It had been removed the day Obi-Wan had returned from Naboo, as he’d gone into a sort of cleaning daze, nearly tearing apart his late Master’s room as he shoved fond memories into boxes and piled them in the darkest corner of the closet, trying desperately to forget everything.

The memories had hurt beyond anything Obi-Wan had been able to stand.

“Oh wow! You guys have an awesome kitchen! Do you think we could cook something later for evening meal? My mom was teaching me how to cook!”

Off to Obi-Wan’s left sat the small kitchen, which was arranged in a stocky curve that opened towards the dining area. A bar designed for informal meals separated it from direct access from the entryway, and most of the curve was formed by countertops that stood over a multitude of cabinets and drawers. Overhead cabinets started along the wall parallel to the entry, leaving the bar with plenty of headroom, and they wrapped around the rest of the kitchen. They stopped once they reached the refrigeration unit, which stood on the boundary between the tile and the carpet, marking the end of the kitchen.

There was a large, double-basin sink that had a pile of clean dishes waiting patiently beside it in the drying rack, a small stove top that had a fan and lighting overhead, and an oven that Obi-Wan blinked at for a moment. He didn’t recognize it until he realized that Anakin hadn’t blown it up yet. Qui-Gon’s set of professional cooking knives stood in between the sink and the stove, along with a full spice rack that Tahl had given him one birthday, and Obi-Wan shut his eyes briefly at the memories that flooded over him.

He couldn’t begin to count the amount of cooking lessons he’d received, using practically every knife and spice present. Those too, had been put away, no matter how useful they’d been. Though Obi-Wan’s skill in the kitchen had been made first-rate under Qui-Gon’s tutelage, he couldn’t bring himself to cook much after Naboo.

“Obi-Wan, these chairs are awesome! I’ve never seen ones that spin before!” Anakin exclaimed, breaking Obi-Wan’s train of thought as he tested out the bar stools, twisting back and forth on them.

_“Anakin, stop that before you break one.”_

_“Aw! But it’s fun! You should try it some time, Master!”_

Obi-Wan snapped his gaze to something else so he could overcome the second horrible rush of nostalgia that filled him at the sight. His Anakin had done that too, usually when he was impatient for the morning meal Obi-Wan was making, and he never let any sort of admonishment stop him.

Obi-Wan’s eyes fell on the large twin windows, each with their own cushioned window seat, which flanked the sliding transparisteel door of the balcony. It stood directly across from the entryway, flooding the common space with light, and he was forced to look away by a tightening in his throat. How many times had he and Qui-Gon or Anakin sat there, watching the sunrise or sunset, or marveling at the rain as it poured down around them? It had been his favorite retreat at times, to sit in the warmth of the sun and meditate, or to select a datapad from the multitude that stood on the shelving adjacent to the windows and read an afternoon away.

It was a mistake to come back here, even if he couldn’t avoid it. This apartment held too many memories, too many ghosts that he hadn’t properly put away, and he wasn’t sure if he could stand to see it as he remembered, without the destruction Ana- _Vader_ had wrought.

Of all the places in the Temple to destroy, the man had chosen this one. He had gutted the rooms, destroyed the furniture with such force they’d been unrecognizable, and shattered any memento he’d gotten his hands on. The river rock Qui-Gon had given Obi-Wan, which had been kept on Obi-Wan’s desk, had been ground into the finest powder, along with any present Anakin had ever treasured.

Whether it had been done out of hatred for his former Master or simply in an attempt to rid himself of his last ties to the Jedi, Obi-Wan had no way of knowing.

“Padawan?”

He glanced up, realizing he’d been frozen in the doorway for some time, and tried to plaster a serene smile on his face for Qui-Gon.

“You’ve gone white as a sheet, Obi-Wan,” the Jedi Master said, frowning at him in concern. “And your shields are up so high that I can’t sense you. What’s the matter?”

Were they, really?

Obi-Wan blinked when he realized that Qui-Gon was correct, and he strove to loosen them. “I’m sorry, Master. I was just thinking, and I didn’t notice I’d pulled-”

The entry chime sounded, cutting him off, and he blinked a second time before moving to palm open the door.

“Padawan Kenobi,” Mace Windu greeted warmly and Obi-Wan froze, his eyes going wide. Images of the security recording flashed to mind, when Mace had been tossed out the Chancellor’s window, Sith lightning jolting through his body-

“Master Windu,” Obi-Wan said, his voice barely making it above a whisper, and he coughed before bowing hastily. “Please come in.”

“That’s all right, padawan,” the man said, and Obi-Wan could feel his scrutinizing gaze; Obi-Wan knew that his reaction to Mace’s presence had made him curious. “I came to see if your Master was up for a small spar before your meeting with the Council.”

“But if you’re here now, Mace, why isn’t the Council in session?” Qui-Gon said, stepping up beside Obi-Wan, who slid into the background. “I understood there was a reason why we couldn’t be seen for five hours.”

“We’re waiting for several of the Masters to return from a mission,” Mace said, and Obi-Wan could feel the Master’s gaze following him as he tried to back away and locate Anakin, who had mysteriously vanished. “Would you like to spar or not? Your apprentice is welcome to join us, of course.”

“He has another engagement I’m afraid,” Qui-Gon said, glancing back at him. “But I will take you up on your offer.”

Obi-Wan could sense the slight frustration that peaked in Qui-Gon; Obi-Wan had escaped close examination yet again.

“Excellent!” Mace was saying, grinning broadly, and the two Masters started to leave the apartment. Qui-Gon shot a look at Obi-Wan over his shoulder that clearly warned him that it wasn’t over, but then the door slid shut between them and Obi-Wan felt someone tugging on his sleeve.

“Yes, Ani?” he asked, glancing down at the boy. “Would you like to get moving?”

“Well, yeah, but I wanted to ask if you built all those models,” he said, his eyes wide, and Obi-Wan frowned a moment before he remembered. “They’re really, really good, and if you did put them together…”

“Yes,” he said, smiling when Anakin’s eyes widened further. “I made most of them when I was about your age, and a few Qui-Gon helped me with once I moved in with him.”

“Wizard,” the boy whispered, and Obi-Wan laughed a little.

“Let me go get a few credit chips and then we’ll head out for some sight seeing, all right?” he said, ruffling Anakin’s hair as he steeled himself and stepped onto the carpet. He forced himself to concentrate on remembering where he kept the chips and to ignore any other memories that might otherwise pop up.

He drew a deep breath before palming open the door to his room, the one he’d kept after becoming Anakin’s master despite the smaller size. He couldn’t bring himself to move into Qui-Gon’s old room, and even Anakin had been reluctant at first, sleeping on the couch for the first few nights instead of moving in properly.

It was the same as he remembered, with models hanging from the ceiling and the dresser that appeared to have thrown up all over the place. Qui-Gon had given up trying to get him to clean it every day, instead settling for once a week, with the promise that the mess never encroached upon any other area. The rest of the apartment was kept freakishly clean, a tradition Obi-Wan had grown so used to that he couldn’t let it go even after Qui-Gon’s death. After all, he could handle a disorganized room easily, seeing as how he used to live in one.

A filthy ’fresher, however, was a whole different story.

“I never thought you’d be a messy person, Obi-Wan,” Anakin said as he stood in the doorway, watching the Jedi shift around under piles of clothes and dirty towels, throwing most of it on his sleep couch to get it out of the way.

“Even the most straight-forward of people have hidden sides,” he replied absently, hunting through the stacks of flimsies and datapads on his desk. He realized several of them belonged to the Archive library and winced; they’d been overdue for a week now. Not that he’d been able to return them, as he’d been on a mission, but he still should’ve had the foresight to drop them off before he left.

“Anakin, could you take these for a minute? I need to return them before we can go out,” he said, handing the boy an entire stack of datapads. What had he been doing? Researching something for a mission? Unfortunately, he couldn’t remember, and he didn’t have the time to scan through the datapads’ entire contents to figure it out.

“Ah-ha!”

He’d found his pile of unused credit chips, saved up over the years as he’d had little use for the small monthly allowance the Temple afforded all Jedi. Even though Jedi weren’t allowed possessions, they weren’t so foolish as to forget that credits were an essential part of the galaxy. Obi-Wan had a sneaking suspicion that every time a Knight or a Master received some kind of thank-you present from a grateful society and was forced to turn it over to the Order, the object was surreptitiously sold to generate the credits that went into those monthly allowances.

“Now, Ani, would you like to eat first, or would you prefer to sight-see?” he asked as he tucked a few chips into the small pouch on his utility belt, and took the stack of datapads from the boy.

“How about we eat later? We did just eat on the ship, after all,” Anakin said as they made their way out of the apartment. “I’d rather see as much of Coruscant as we can.”

“All right,” Obi-Wan said, and blinked a little when he felt Anakin grasp his free hand tightly. He glanced down at the boy for a second and found Anakin was trying to see everything, his head whipping left and right as they walked towards the banks of lifts.

“Then here’s another decision for you: which would you rather see first, a technology exhibit at the Coruscant museum or a few historic buildings?”

Anakin seemed to pause a moment as he thought while they waited for a lift. “I dunno, you choose. I’d like to see everything, but…”

“We only have a few hours,” he finished for the boy. A faint chime sounded and the door opened before them.

“Main floor, please,” he said and the lift began to move, humming around them. Anakin gasped a little, clutching him with both hands, and Obi-Wan gave the boy a reassuring smile. It had taken his Anakin a while to get used to lifts as well.

“Is there anywhere that you absolutely must see?” he asked, trying to think of a way to divert Anakin’s attention. It seemed to work, as the death grip loosened ever so slightly.

“The Senate building?” Anakin asked hopefully. “It and the Jedi Temple were the only two buildings anyone ever told me about, and since I’ve seen the Temple, that leaves the Senate. Padmé talked a lot about it, and I’d like to see it, if I could.”

“We’ll start with that one, then,” he said, and another chime sounded when the lift slid to a halt.

“Main floor,” a pleasant, feminine voice announced, and Anakin tugged Obi-Wan off the lift quickly.

“The Archive library is to the left, Ani,” Obi-Wan said with a small smile, when it became clear that the boy wanted to get as far from the lifts as possible. Anakin slowed sheepishly, letting Obi-Wan take the lead, and soon they stood before the wide doorway that opened up to the expansive, shelf-lined main hallway of the Archives.

“Wizard,” Anakin whispered as Obi-Wan tugged him onwards, heading towards the main desk.

A prim, aging female Jedi sat at an archive console, her white hair pulled up into a tight bun, which was secured with two black hair sticks. She finished scanning a hidden screen and turned back to the small group of Initiates, who were waiting in relative patience. Some looked like they wanted to be hopping from foot to foot and were clearly restraining themselves.

“I’m afraid that volume of the archives has been checked out by a Master on the Council, children,” she said, her voice crisp with authority, yet still warm. “But there are other resources available to you, and if you are unable to locate any, please come back and see me.”

Her gaze fell on Obi-Wan then, and she smiled. “Padawan Kenobi, good to see you,” she said, and Obi-Wan ignored the whispers of surprise as the Initiates noticed him. “Are you in need of some assistance?”

“No, I just need to return these,” he said, handing over the pile of datapads. “I’m afraid they’re overdue.”

She took them, smiling kindly. “We were informed of your mission’s delayed status, so there is no penalty, padawan,” she said as she took them. “Thank you for returning them so promptly.”

He bowed politely in response and turned, tugging on Anakin’s hand gently, and the two made there way towards the exit.

“Thank you for coming with me, Ani,” he said once they were out of the archivist’s hearing range.

“’Sall right,” the boy said, slightly distracted as he continued to try and see everything around him. “It means I get to see more of the Temple, which is really cool.”

“I’m glad you like it,” he replied.

“Obi-Wan!”

He started at the female voice that rang out behind them, and he turned to see a very familiar Mon Calamari running towards them, waving and grinning broadly. Obi-Wan felt a powerful wave of relief fill him, feeling happier than he ever thought possible to see the Bant he remembered and not the one he’d left behind. She’d been drawn with exhaustion most of the time, hardened by the wars and the heavy losses of many of their close friends, and her skin had darkened to the color of a Mon Calamari twice her age.

She hadn’t survived the attack on the Temple, and he’d barely recognized her corpse. From what he’d been able to ascertain, she’d been defending a group of younglings under her care, and Ana- _Vader_ had…

Blinking back the tears that had formed and roughly pushing those memories away, he let go of Anakin when she neared so that he could return her familiar embrace, surprising himself with a happy laugh.

“Obi-Wan, it’s good to see you! When’d you get back? I heard that you’d been attacked and then delayed!” Bant asked as he released her, his hand unconsciously returning to Anakin’s as the boy stared at her with wide eyes.

“Just a little bit ago,” he replied. “I haven’t had time to send any messages.”

“I wouldn’t have gotten it anyway,” she said, her gaze flicking to Anakin curiously. “I had morning shift at the Healers, and we had one of the worst waves of injured I’ve ever seen. So are you going to introduce me to your friend, Obi-Wan? Or are you going to make us stare at each other forever?” she teased, giving Anakin a conspiratorial smile, which he returned with a grin.

“Oh! Forgive me. Bant, meet Anakin Skywalker. Anakin, this is one of my best friends, Bant Eerin. She works at the Temple Healers, and has patched me up after more than one dreadful mission,” he said as the two shook hands.

“I bet you want to know what I am, huh?” Bant said to Anakin, still smiling. “I’m a Mon Calamari. I was born on a planet that’s mostly water.”

“Really?” Anakin asked, his eyes going wide for the umpteenth time.

“Anakin is from a planet with very little water,” Obi-Wan told her, and she blinked down at the boy in a vague imitation of shock.

Anakin nodded when he saw her expression. “Yeah,” he said. “It’s mostly sand and rock, and it’s really hot.”

“I can’t even imagine such a place!” Bant exclaimed good-naturedly, clasping a flipper over her mouth. “You must be awfully strong to survive on a planet like that; I know I would die without the ability to go swimming every day!”

Anakin beamed at the compliment and Obi-Wan blinked at the mentioning of swimming. “Say, Bant,” he began, and watched her gaze flick up to him. “What are you doing in about five hours?”

She gave him a look he knew from past experience meant she was suspicious. “I’m off-duty then. Why?”

“Well, I’ve been put in charge of looking after Anakin, but I’ve got a meeting with the Council in five hours,” he began, feeling both Bant and Anakin watching him curiously. “And you know how those meetings are. It could go on for hours, if they really start questioning, and I don’t want to leave Anakin sitting around with nothing to do. It wouldn’t be fair.”

Bant smiled, catching on. “I’ll look after him during that time,” she said, glancing back down to Anakin. “If that’s all right with you?” she asked, addressing the boy, who nodded again. “Then I know just what we’ll do, Anakin. Since you come from a desert, I bet you never learned to swim, did you?”

“Swim, as in, water-swim?” he said, his tone breathless, and Obi-Wan smiled; Bant had suggested the very thing he’d been hoping for. “No, no I didn’t. There wasn’t any water that I would dare use for anything but drinking.”

“Well, since you’re no longer on your planet, swimming is a skill that could very well save your life. You wouldn’t want to go to, oh say, my planet, if you didn’t know how to do so,” she said, and Anakin nodded, suddenly looking eager.

“Then it’s settled,” Obi-Wan said. “Bant, we’ll meet you in front of our apartment in five hours, and then you can take Anakin for some swimming lessons.”

She smiled. “Glad to be of service, Obi-Wan. Now if you’ll excuse me, my break is almost up, and I’ll do you another favor and tell the others you’re back, since I get the feeling you two are heading out for some sight-seeing. It was nice meeting you, Anakin, and Obi-Wan, be sure to tell Dex ‘hi’ for me, would you?”

Obi-Wan laughed and waved as she hurried towards the lifts. “Thank you, Bant! And I will!”

“Who’s Dex, Obi-Wan?” Anakin asked, looking up at him curiously.

Obi-Wan merely smiled down at him. “You’ll see. Shall we try finding an air taxi?”

***

Qui-Gon sighed a little as he followed Mace down the hall towards the lifts. He’d meant to be meditating on the problem he kept having with Obi-Wan, but he’d never refused a spar with Mace before, and he didn’t want to deal with his friend ribbing him over something so petty. His nerves had been fraying quickly these days, and with the shock he’d received on the way to the Temple, he doubted his ability not to snap at Mace, should the man start anything.

“I see what you meant in your message to Yoda,” Mace said, and Qui-Gon blinked stupidly at him.

“What?”

Mace gave him a knowing smile as they reached the lift, the door opening instantly for them. “You didn’t really think we’d have time for a sparring session, did you? Yoda sent me to collect you and to examine your padawan as best I could, considering the situation.”

“What?” he asked again, feeling like a broken voice chip, and he watched Mace roll his eyes as they entered the lift.

“For Force sakes, man, do I have to spell it out for you?” Mace asked as the doors slid closed. “Main floor, by the way.”

A chime sounded, and the lift began moving.

“Yoda showed me the message you sent him regarding your request to speak with him about Obi-Wan. You know, the one where you mentioned his collapse over a vision? Well, since we’ve got a bit of free time before our actual meeting with you, Yoda sent me to get you so we could discuss things in private.”

“And you couldn’t have said so earlier?” Qui-Gon snapped, earning a surprised look from Mace.

“You said ‘off the record’ in your message, Qui-Gon,” Mace said, his tone turning serious. “And when Yoda told me to examine your padawan without letting him know I was doing so, I assumed it would be better if he didn’t know you were being called to a private meeting about him.”

Qui-Gon sighed, shutting his eyes. “Forgive me, Mace. But this whole thing has me on edge; I’d been planning to meditate on it, but I think talking to Master Yoda will help just as much.”

He opened his eyes when the lift slowed and the doors opened to reveal the main hall of the temple.

“So did you find anything worth noting?” he asked as they made their way towards a smaller hallway and boarding another lift. “I’m curious to as what you gleaned, if anything.”

“You sound like you already know the answer,” Mace said and Qui-Gon gave a little shrug as the lift began moving upwards rapidly. “Well, if you were implying that I’d found nothing, then you were correct. You’ve taught your apprentice some of the strongest shields I’ve ever encountered. No normal probe, trying to go unnoticed, could’ve gotten through.”

Qui-Gon smirked a little, his ears popping as they ascended one of the Temple spires. “And you know what the funny thing is? Those aren’t even his best. He threw them up in under a second, and I’ve come to recognize them as his careless shields.”

“What?”

He could feel Mace’s incredulous stare burning into his profile, but he refused to meet the man’s gaze.

“Qui-Gon, that’s ridiculous. I know many Masters who can’t shield like that, and a few of them are on the Council. It should be impossible for any padawan, even if he is practically ready to be knighted.”

“Exactly, Mace; _it should be impossible,_ ” Qui-Gon said, finally looking at his friend.

“And with that statement lies the problem, the very one I have been struggling with ever since I first noticed it,” he continued as the lift slowed, his stomach flipping a little. “Do you see my dilemma?”

“You mean you didn’t teach him how to shield like that?” Mace said, his voice dropping to a whisper, and his face knit into a worried frown. “But then… where else would he learn it?”

“Ah, Mace, Qui-Gon,” a new voice croaked as the lift doors slid open. “Beginning to worry, I was.”

“Master Yoda,” Qui-Gon said, tearing his gaze from Mace so that he could bow, and the two men stepped from the lift. “I am grateful that you chose to see me so quickly upon receiving my message.”

“Sensed its urgency, I did,” Yoda said, smiling up at him. “Now come, come, talk we must, but away from here. To my meditation chambers, we shall go.”

A few moments later and the three Jedi Masters were situating themselves on the cushions that lay strewn about the room. Qui-Gon looked around curiously for a moment. He’d never really been up to Yoda’s private meditation chamber, as he’d always gone to Yoda’s actual quarters, which were only a few floors away from his own. The afternoon sun filled the room with a warmth Qui-Gon found did little to lessen the coiling unease in the depths of his heart.

There was a sickening flash of grief along the bond, so deep that Qui-Gon found himself gasping, his body involuntarily jerking. His vision swam before him and suddenly he was in a hall he knew from the Healer’s wing of the Temple…

Then there was a rush of happiness, and the sound of mixing laughter, and Qui-Gon slammed his shields up, blocking out the rest of the emotions that had come pouring through the bond.

“Qui-Gon?”

He looked up at Mace, who had touched his shoulder, the man’s gaze heavy with concern, and then glanced at Master Yoda, whose green eyes held a scrutinizing gleam.

“Saw something, did you?” he asked, lacing his claw-like fingers together, and his ears lifted slightly, along with his bushy grey eyebrows. “From your padawan, I sense it was. Through the bond it came?”

Qui-Gon swallowed, but nodded. “This has happened a few times, when Obi-Wan’s shields slip. Once I was in a jungle, leading troops to battle, and the second time I was in my quarters, which had been utterly destroyed. Just now, I was at the Healers, and I sense that someone was dead.”

“Those don’t make any sense,” Mace said, frowning.

“If visions they are, then mere flashes they will be,” Yoda said, his eyes narrowing in thought. “Begin at the beginning, you must, Qui-Gon. Sense a great shift in your padawan, I do.”

“And you’d be right, Master Yoda,” Qui-Gon said, sighing as he sat back, and he began tugging on his beard gently. “In the air taxi on our way here-”

“The beginning, I said,” Yoda interrupted, quirking an eyebrow. “The beginning of your tale, that is not.”

Qui-Gon sighed again. “Very well. It started about a week ago, when we were finally leaving Tatooine, the planet we were forced to land on. We’d barely made it off the surface when Obi-Wan collapsed and the bond went utterly silent, which was because of the shields that snapped up around him. I was able to break through them only once, during which I sensed great pain…”

He shut his eyes for a moment. “I felt like I was burning, from the inside out.”

“You sensed Obi-Wan’s pain?” Mace asked, and he nodded.

“I believe so. Wherever his consciousness was, he was suffering a great deal,” Qui-Gon said and heard Yoda utter a soft ‘hm’.

“Continue. Curious, this tale becomes.”

“Obi-Wan finally fainted, but his shields remained in place, and I could do nothing but wait until he decided to wake, which wasn’t for a few hours. When he finally woke, he reacted strangely. He didn’t know where he was and he kept insisting I couldn’t be Qui-Gon, because Qui-Gon was dead,” he said, watching Mace raise his eyebrows and glance at Yoda, who looked at Qui-Gon intently. “He finally snapped out of it, coming back to himself, but he reacted with shock to everything and everyone around him, which I assumed was because of the depths of his vision.”

“A distinct possibility,” Yoda said. “Thrown him off-balance, it seems to have done.”

“My thoughts exactly,” Qui-Gon replied before continuing. “I decided to give him some time to sort out his feelings, to regain his footing, but the next morning when I went to wake him, I noticed a distinct change in him.”

“What happened?” Mace asked, tilting his head to one side, and frowning.

Qui-Gon smirked a little. “At first I couldn’t find him, because he’d moved his bed some time during the night, and then erected the strongest shield the Temple can teach.”

Mace gasped loudly and Yoda seemed to blink in shock. “ _Kinas_ -shielding, you mean?” the old Master asked, his voice dropping in volume, and Qui-Gon nodded once, which made Mace shake his head.

“But it wasn’t the same as I’d been taught. It didn’t deteriorate when I found him, and it had been mixed with a Force-suggestion that came very close to convincing me there was nothing in front of me. If he hadn’t moved slightly, I don’t think I would’ve been able to ignore it,” Qui-Gon said quietly, watching as Yoda’s expression darkened.

“Impossible, that should be,” he said.

“But there it was, staring me in the face,” Qui-Gon said. “And when I nudged at his shields with a command of my own, I found myself on the floor with my own lightsaber held at my throat.”

“Your own padawan _attacked_ you?” Mace breathed. “How… how could that be? Why weren’t you able to react?”

“Moved too quickly, he did,” Yoda answered, still watching Qui-Gon.

“Yes. I had no warning from the Force, no sense of what was happening until it was too late, and when I reached for the bond to prove to him that I wasn’t a threat, I received that first vision, the one about the jungle,” he said, watching Mace sit back in astonishment. “He snapped out of it then, and I demanded that he share what he saw the day before, but he refused, asking for more time.”

“And you gave it to him?” Mace interjected, looking scandalized. “Qui-Gon, what were you thinking?”

“Thinking of his padawan, he was,” Yoda once again answered. “Fell back on the trust they share, he did, letting it guide his decision.”

“Yes, and now I’m beginning to regret it,” Qui-Gon grumbled, but Yoda shook his head gravely.

“Regret it you should not,” he said, making Qui-Gon raise his eyebrows. “Had you forced through Obi-Wan’s shields then, made things much worse, it would have.”

Qui-Gon heaved a sigh and Yoda made a small gesture with his hand. “Continue, you must.”

“Well, the rest of our return went smoothly, with no repeats of that first day,” Qui-Gon said. “It was only when we landed did the problem resurface. Upon seeing the chancellor and Senator Palpatine, an anger unlike any I’ve ever sensed before raged through him. I was afraid he was going to actually attack them, but as quickly as it came, it vanished into the Force.”

“A level of control you’ve not seen before, he showed?” Yoda asked, and Qui-Gon nodded.

“Part of me was pleased to see how well he controlled the emotion, but most of me was alarmed by its appearance in the first place,” he said. “When I questioned him about it, he dodged the issue, telling me to study his Force-presence.”

“What’d you find?” Mace asked, leaning forward slightly.

“Do you remember anything about Obi-Wan’s presence from before we left?” he asked, earning a confused look from Mace, but a thoughtful one from Yoda.

“Great potential, it had,” Yoda said. “Always growing, it was, and sensed he could become one of the greatest Knights in the Temple I did.”

“And I think he has somehow managed to do just that,” Qui-Gon said, sensing the surprise from both of the Masters. “If you want to know the real reason I haven’t already found out about the vision that Obi-Wan had, it’s because I don’t think I’d be able to break through his shields. I barely managed to once, and I was thrown right back out the moment he realized I was there.”

“You’re kidding,” Mace said, and Qui-Gon shook his head sadly.

“Somehow his skills have leapt far beyond mine, Mace,” he said, turning back to Yoda. “When he told me to study his Force-presence, I thought he was just avoiding my questions, but what I felt should be impossible. He has the presence of a highly skilled Master, possibly equal to any on the Council.”

“And you think that vision is responsible?” Mace asked, looking from Qui-Gon to Yoda. “Could something like that even happen?”

“Unheard of it is,” Yoda said, his eyes still thoughtful. “But understand the ways of the Force fully, no one does. Possible, I sense that it is.”

“Then what do I do, Master Yoda?” Qui-Gon asked, trying to keep the helplessness he felt from his tone. “I have nothing to teach him. In fact, from the abilities I’ve seen, _he_ should be teaching _me_.”

“Always learning, we are. Something more to teach him you have, or your padawan he would not be,” Yoda replied. “Told you nothing of the vision, has he?”

“He’s told me a little, but I don’t think it was his intention,” Qui-Gon said. “He’s trying to keep as much of it from me as possible.”

“What did you find out?” Mace asked, but Yoda silenced him with a wave of his hand.

“For us to know now, it is not,” Yoda said and Qui-Gon started. “Sense, I do, that something very powerful, during the vision happened. More than a simple vision this seems, and wait we must for the proper time to ask young Kenobi to share.”

“But how will I know when that time is?” Qui-Gon asked, feeling more than a little frustrated. “Even if he has somehow managed to become stronger than me, he is still my padawan, and I don’t appreciate that he is keeping secrets from me.”

“Patience,” Yoda said, cracking a smile. “Know you will when the time comes.”

Qui-Gon sat back, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. A typical Yoda response, one that never failed in frustrating him further.

“So what do we do until then?” Mace asked. “Do we bring this up in front of the Council?”

A flash of alarm flickered through Qui-Gon, which apparently Yoda shared, as he glanced at Mace sharply. “Demand, they would, for young Kenobi’s shields to be broken. Cause more harm that would, than good.”

“It would destroy his mind,” Qui-Gon said, shaking his head, and Mace fell back, looking slightly chagrined.

“Yes,” Yoda said with a nod, his expression once more grave. “Want that, we do not. Speak of this with the others, we cannot. Sense a gathering dark, I do, but a light remains, and inside your padawan, it is. The secrets young Kenobi guards may save us all, so protect him from further discovery we must.”

***


	11. Chapter Ten

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anakin and Obi-Wan spend the day sightseeing, before an incident makes Obi-Wan wonder if his future might repeat itself all over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted to fanfiction.net in 2007.

***

Anakin swore that it was hours before Obi-Wan announced that they’d better get lunch, lest they be unable to eat anything until evening. Anakin’s feet ached in a way he hadn’t thought possible, as he certainly didn’t feel like he’d been walking around much. He chalked that one up to the fact that he wanted to see absolutely everything possible, so he hadn’t been paying attention to his body.

He felt that they’d covered at least half the planet, and though most of it had been done via air taxi or on the public airbuses, he guessed that they’d walked more in a day than he would in a week.

Not that he was complaining, because he’d been willing.

They certainly saw a lot of places, starting with the lavish Senate building and its main chamber. There must’ve been thousands of Senatorial hover pods, and the overall size of the room made Anakin dizzy. The carpeting in the adjoining rooms was a thick, deep red color that he was reluctant to step on, what with his dirty boots and all. The art that decorated the walls was more beautiful than anything he could’ve possibly imagined, the sculptures that lined the halls were lithe and delicate in their design, and everything was studded tastefully with precious gems.

Anakin almost couldn’t take it. They watched several Senators prepare for the daily session and he suddenly felt so very small compared to the grand scheme of things, like a teeny-tiny grain of sand lost out in the Wastes.

If he thought the Senate was bad, however, he nearly plopped down in shock when they arrived at the shopping mall. It was over several hundred stories tall, both below and above ground, with thousands of restaurants, stores that sold anything imaginable, and more people than Anakin had been able to handle. They barely set foot in the building when Obi-Wan whisked them right back out again. Even though the Jedi told him it was because he didn’t want Anakin to feel disappointed since they couldn’t afford anything there, Anakin knew Obi-Wan somehow sensed his distress, and he felt immensely grateful.

Instead, they wound up shopping at several, much smaller stores, ones that clearly were avoided by the kind of people Anakin glimpsed in the mall. That place had been full of the types that covered themselves in fancy outfits and jewelry that could easily buy half of Tatooine, and honestly, it was a relief to be away from them. He and Obi-Wan could be as silly as they wanted now.

It started with Obi-Wan putting the first hat he could find on Anakin’s head and quickly escalated from there, each trying to find a more outrageous hat for the other. It ended with the shopkeeper asking them to buy something or leave, as they laughed themselves to tears over some of the styles.

Anakin didn’t seem to have the same knack Obi-Wan did for finding bizarre designs, which ranged from shockingly pink hats studded with exotic foliage to purple and red hats with more feathers than a real bird. He supposed it was because the Jedi had the advantage of height, which was necessary to reach the top of the racks. Anakin was limited to about the midway point, but he did his best just the same.

He prided himself upon finding the craziest hat of the day though, and the incident around it was the reason the shopkeeper put an end to their fun. Anakin found it in the back of one of the racks, his eyes lighting up upon his discovery, and he dragged it forth to place it on Obi-Wan’s head like some kind of misshapen crown.

The padawan gaped at it, for it was truly the ugliest thing either of them had ever seen. It was a mix of neon yellow, orange, and green stripes, which zigzagged across the surface in jagged patterns. Opposing the stripes were bright purple circles, and dangling from the brim were little balls of fluff, dyed to match the stripe scheme. Off the top of the hat plumed a decorative bouquet of what would have been gorgeous iridescent feathers of deep blue and green, except that when paired with the hat, their beauty was utterly ruined.

“ _Stars_ , Ani,” Obi-Wan exclaimed the moment the hat touched his head, goggling at himself in the mirror. “Who would buy such a thing, let alone wear it?”

The pointed clearing of a throat made them turn to see a rather large female of a species Anakin had never seen before, the exact same hat on her head. She glowered at the two of them, the pale fur that coated her body ruffling in her irritation, and Anakin gulped a little when he saw her fangs.

“I’ll have you know,” the female said primly, her voice surprisingly high for all her ferocity, “that this hat is the most stylish style on Coruscant, and to see you flout it so… so… _falantly_ demonstrates a level of boorish behavior I suppose I should expect from uncultured Humans!”

“Forgive us, ma’am,” Obi-Wan said quietly, removing the hat and ducking his head in a small bow. “We never meant to insult anyone.”

The female blew out a heavy breath through her nose, her wide nostrils flaring and her eyes flashing. “See that this never happens again!”

And with that, she left.

Anakin hung his head a little, glancing up at Obi-Wan once she was out of sight, and he found the padawan’s eyes sparkling with barely suppressed laughter. Obi-Wan quirked an eyebrow at the boy before setting the hat reverently on the counter in front of them, and Anakin worked hard to stifle his giggles.

“Hey, Obi-Wan?” Anakin asked quietly. “What does ‘falantly’ mean? Was she trying to insult us?”

“She meant ‘flagrantly’, I believe,” Obi-Wan returned, rising from his chair. “And yes, she was trying to insult us, though she certainly did a very poor job of it, didn’t she? She hoped to make us angry, but instead she only succeeded in making us laugh.”

Anakin almost regretted doing it when they were kicked out (but not before Obi-Wan bought him a pair of welder’s goggles that he’d found, which he could put to use and would serve as a way to remember the day). He somehow sensed that Obi-Wan shared his flash of guilt, but the moment their gazes met, the two erupted into uncontrollable fits of laughter and any hint of remorse was forgotten.

They did actually wind up venturing into another clothing store so that Anakin could get a set of swim clothes for his upcoming lesson (which he was both excited for and nervous about, having never seen enough water to be completely submerged in).

When they entered the small (the term being relative, of course; it was still bigger than half the houses in Mos Espa put together) toy store that stood along the street, Anakin hadn’t known what to do with himself. Obi-Wan easily found the model section and picked out three kits for the two of them to work on, but Anakin couldn’t bring himself to touch any of the toy speeders or spaceships, for fear they would somehow burst apart the moment he did.

They then made a relatively short stop at some kind of literature store, where Obi-Wan bought Anakin a data chip on galactic podracing, another that was sort of like a galactic atlas for tourists (which he unfortunately was), and at his request, a third on cooking. Part of him couldn’t wait to get back to the Temple so he could pour through all the new reading material, but that thought was instantly set aside when they walked through the doorway of the Coruscant flight museum.

Anakin easily could’ve spent _hours_ there, running (well, walking quickly, and tugging Obi-Wan behind him) from one exhibit to the next. He tried to absorb as much as he possibly could, from the demonstrations on the evolution of flight to the displays on the most modern of spacecraft, and when he’d been allowed to poke around in an older snub fighter cockpit, he swore that the day couldn’t get any better.

Then Obi-Wan pointed out a pilot training simulator.

They spent an hour there alone, and only the loud protest of Anakin’s stomach was finally able to force them to leave the museum. Obi-Wan listened intently to Anakin as they left, forgetting to flag down an air taxi when the boy enthusiastically retold his final flight on the simulator. Anakin’s hands wove up and down and left to right, occasionally crossing each other, as he copied the wild motions of his ship in the middle of a heated battle, adding as many sound effects as he thought necessary.

Only when a cab appeared before them and they climbed in did Anakin realize that he’d forgotten all about their mysterious lunch location. He’d been meaning to pester Obi-Wan for more details, as he hadn’t met anyone named ‘Dex’ yet, but in his overall excitement, he’d completely forgotten.

When the taxi dropped them off at a relatively rundown looking diner, which seemed woefully out of place, flanked as it was by two giant buildings, Anakin felt his curiosity spike all over again.

“Welcome, welcome!” a loud voice boomed upon their entrance, and Anakin looked around in wonder. A long bar lined with those spinning stools he enjoyed so much sat opposite a long stretch of booths that hugged the wall with the windows. Everything was either a cheerful red, a sparkling white that went unhindered by the thin layer of dirt that seemed to coat everything, or lined with silvery chrome. The seats were red, the tables were white, and everything was edged with the polished metal.

“Obi-Wan? I don’t believe it! Stay right there, I’ll be out in a moment!” the loud voice said, and Anakin froze as a set of swinging doors were pushed open to reveal a giant alien of a species he’d never run into before. The guy put ‘burly’ in a whole new light, with four heavily muscled arms and absolutely giant hands with claw-like fingers, and a heavy, stocky body frame. His face split in a grin that was more terrifying than friendly, the lights shining off the ribbed plates on his head and giving his dark brown skin a tough, leathery texture.

“Good to see you too, Dex!” Anakin heard Obi-Wan say as he stepped up to greet the alien, and Anakin’s jaw dropped when the Jedi was gathered into an embrace he was sure would snap Obi-Wan’s spine. The two laughed as they parted, with the alien patting (Anakin thought it looked more like pounding) Obi-Wan on the shoulder, and Anakin couldn’t believe the padawan was still standing.

“What brings you round these parts, Obi-Wan? Haven’t seen you or that Qui-Gon fella in months!” the alien said, and Anakin nearly shuddered when he caught a glimpse of several razor sharp teeth. “I was beginnin’ to think you’d forgotten all about me!”

“The way you cook, Dex, no one could ever forget about you. Especially when they curse your name all the way to the MedCenter,” Obi-Wan replied, and the alien threw his head back with a loud guffaw, his good-sized paunch jiggling with the sound.

“Well, I see all that time away hasn’t dulled that tongue of yours,” the alien said, grinning. “Maybe some of my special soup could slow it down. What do ya think? You up for a bowl?”

“I’ll pass on that, Dex, but thank you,” Obi-Wan said, holding up a hand. “Besides, it’s liable to make my tongue even sharper.”

“And I certainly wouldn’t want that,” the alien said, his grin widening, and Anakin nearly gulped when he felt the alien’s small black eyes fall on him. “Well, well. Who’s this, Obi-Wan? Your little brother?”

“You could say that,” Obi-Wan said, winking at Anakin, who tried to smile around his unease. “Dex, this is Anakin Skywalker, who I’ll be looking after for a while. Anakin, meet Dexter Jettster, able to do any trade in the galaxy, yet has settled on cooking, and an old friend of mine and my Master’s.”

“Hi,” Anakin said, his voice deciding not to come out as loudly as he would’ve liked, but Dexter didn’t seem to notice.

“Say, you wouldn’t happen to be the same Human who won the Boonta Classic, now would ya?” Dexter asked, one of his hands coming up to stroke his chin thoughtfully, and Anakin looked up in surprise. “I seem to recall readin’ somethin’ about it in the news reports, just the other day. A whole lotta people lost a lot of credits because of the upset of the favorite.”

“Sebulba knew I was gonna beat him eventually,” Anakin said, his fear forgotten and replaced by a tiny grin of pride. “I’m Human but I’ve got better reflexes, and I had a better ’racer, which I built myself.”

Dexter laughed again. “I thought it was you!” he said, grinning. “You’re all over some of the racing channels, being hailed as the biggest surprise to come out of podracing in years. I watched some of the Classic, and didn’t you stall out in the very beginning?”

“Unfortunately,” Anakin said, rolling his eyes. “And then something went wrong with the engines, but I was still able to pull off a first place win!”

He felt a hand lightly touch his shoulder, and he found Obi-Wan smiling down at him. “You see, Dex, we got stuck on Tatooine during our latest mission, and if Anakin hadn’t won that race to get the parts we needed, we would still be there.”

“Really, now?” Dexter said, glancing from Obi-Wan to Anakin briefly. “Then you’ve got my thanks, Anakin, for bringing Obi-Wan back to Coruscant, even if he does complain too much about my cooking.” Anakin grinned up at Obi-Wan, who rolled his eyes with a smile. “And I think something so noble deserves a reward, don’t you, Obi-Wan? Lunch is on the house today, provided you tell me all about the race.”

“Deal!” Anakin said happily.

“Now go take a seat; I’ve got to get back to the kitchen for a moment. Herm or the droid’ll be around to take your orders shortly,” Dexter said, turning and ambling back to the swinging doors, and Obi-Wan gestured to the rest of the diner.

“Take your pick, Ani,” he said. “Where do you want to sit?”

“By a window, if you don’t mind,” Anakin replied. As much as he enjoyed those spinning stools, he didn’t like sitting with his back to the door or where he couldn’t see outside.

“Then a booth it is,” Obi-Wan said, and they made their way to the nearest one. A droid zipped by the moment they sat, practically throwing a couple of menus at them as it went to serve another customer, and Anakin found himself staggered by the sheer number of choices.

“Hey, Obi-Wan?” he asked, frowning as he read over the selections. “What should I avoid?”

Obi-Wan laughed in response before reaching over and tapping an item on Anakin’s menu with his finger. “Don’t listen to what I said earlier, Ani,” he said, still smiling. “Dex one of the best cooks out there, and though everything here is good, I think you’ll like that one.”

Anakin read it over, pursing his lips, but he finally inwardly shrugged and put down the menu. He’d never heard of a ‘burger’ before, and it did have Bantha meat in it, so it couldn’t be too bad. It came with a side of _frites_ , which he’d never heard of either, but most of the food on the menu came with that, so he decided not to worry about it.

The serving droid returned to take their orders and nearly snatched the menu from his hands once he’d finished speaking. Anakin watched it speed away, part of him wondering what its problem was, since there were only a few other people in the diner besides him and Obi-Wan. Maybe it was just programmed to be rude.

“Don’t worry about her, Ani,” Obi-Wan said, drawing his gaze from the droid. “She’s been like that for as long as I can remember, even when Qui-Gon and I were the only ones here.”

“She?” he echoed.

“Well, you wouldn’t really call a droid like that a ‘he’, would you?” Obi-Wan said, lacing his fingers together. “Considering it looks like she’s wearing a red dress and has a feminine voice chip installed…”

“Yeah, I’m glad you pointed that out,” Anakin said, glancing over his shoulder at the droid, who passed on their order to the chef. “I wouldn’t wanna insult her and wind up with oil in my food.”

“Which has happened before, I assure you,” Obi-Wan said as the droid returned, carrying a tray that held two tall, conical glasses, one filled with a pale brown substance, the other filled with a white substance. Both were topped with some kind of puffy white confection, which in turn was topped by a bright red ball, and Anakin later discovered that it was some kind of painfully sweet fruit.

“Enjoy,” she said, setting the brown one before Anakin and the white one before Obi-Wan. She then wheeled away, leaving him to inspect the strange drink.

“What… what is it?” Anakin asked, taking the spoon and the straw Obi-Wan passed him as he peered at it, trying to decide if it was liquid or solid. “Can I really drink this?”

“Yes,” Obi-Wan said, and Anakin saw that he rapidly consumed the fluffy white stuff with his own spoon. “It may be a little thicker than you’re used to, but I’m sure you’ll like it if you try it.”

Shrugging to himself, he lifted the spoon and moved to copy the Jedi. He gathered a tiny bit of the fluffy stuff onto his utensil and brought it to his mouth tentatively. The substance practically melted on his tongue, and his eyes went wide; this stuff was _good_. It was sweeter than anything he’d ever tasted, and he looked up in wonder to find Obi-Wan smiling at him.

“Now, I never let you have any of this, understand? If Qui-Gon asks, you had a nice healthy meal,” he said, dropping his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “Even I’m not supposed to have this very often, and Qui-Gon will be upset because we could’ve easily eaten at the Temple, but I wanted you to meet Dex and I thought it would be a good end to our sight-seeing.”

Anakin pantomimed sealing his lips, winking as he did so, and then went back to finishing off the white stuff. He glanced up quickly to see what he was supposed to do once he’d done so, and found that Obi-Wan was using his straw for the not-quite liquid drink portion. He moved to copy the Jedi again, now utterly curious to see if it was as sweet as he hoped, and his eyes lit up when it didn’t disappoint. It was a strange texture, he decided, slightly milky, yet frozen, and he swore that his taste buds were dancing in delight.

“What’s this called again?” Anakin asked, glancing up as Obi-Wan set his drink aside, clearly intending to save some of it for when the rest of their order arrived.

“A shake, I believe.”

Anakin looked up, frowning. “Why’d they name it that? Do you gotta shake it to make it?”

“Possibly; I never found out. Good, though, hm?” Obi-Wan said, grinning as Anakin slurped up the last of the drink. “I probably should’ve told you that you’re only getting one of those before you finished it.”

“That’s okay,” Anakin said, his gaze drifting to Obi-Wan’s unguarded drink, and he licked his lips to remove any possible leftovers from his own. “I’ll just have water or something.”

Obi-Wan quirked an eyebrow and Anakin realized that he wasn’t fooling the Jedi, who moved his own shake further out of reach. Anakin huffed slightly, a little disappointed at being thwarted so easily, but then the rest of their meal arrived, and his stomach began growling loudly at the delicious smells that wafted up to his nose.

“One special and one Coruscant burger. Enjoy,” the droid said and rolled away.

Anakin stared down at the food that had been placed before him, as once again he’d never seen anything like it. It reminded him of the sandwiches he’d had for lunch on the ship, but the bread was much thicker and its shape was a large circle. He leaned over, trying to inspect the layers, and only really recognized some greenery. He hesitantly identified the charred, brownish black layer as the Bantha meat, but it had been prepared in a manner he’d never seen before.

“Try it,” Obi-Wan urged, and Anakin found the Jedi chomping down on his own multi-layered sandwich. His, however, Anakin easily recognized, as they made ones just like it the other day.

Sighing to himself, as Obi-Wan had been right about the shake drink, he picked up the burger sandwich, and stretching his mouth wide, took a bite.

“Hm!” Anakin murmured, chewing thoughtfully. He couldn’t begin to describe the flavors that he tasted, coming across too many to name, really, but the meat had a delicious tang and he found himself liking the sandwich more with every bite.

“How’d you know I’d like this?” he asked in between bites, and watched Obi-Wan dip several thick, golden wedges Anakin figured were the mysterious _frites_ into a red sauce he remembered as Corellian catsup.

“Jedi hunch,” Obi-Wan replied, popping the _frites_ into his mouth and chewing. “Plus it’s the simplest thing on the menu, besides the Beslan soup and salad, which I assumed would leave you still hungry.”

“Maybe,” Anakin responded, setting the sandwich down so he could try his own _frites_ , and to his surprise, he encountered a very familiar taste.

“Hey! These are tubers!” he exclaimed, looking up at Obi-Wan in shock, who nodded and took a bite of his own sandwich. “They don’t look like the ones we had, though…”

“They’ve been prepared differently, but they’re still the same thing,” Obi-Wan said after swallowing, his eyebrows rising as he glanced at Anakin’s plate. “And if you don’t want them, I’ll be happy to take them off your hands.”

“That’s okay,” Anakin said, quickly reaching for the catsup. “I think I can manage.”

Obi-Wan laughed a little, telling Anakin that he’d been teasing, and the two of them went back to their food.

One very satisfying meal and one detailed conversation about podracing with Dex later, Anakin found himself waving good-bye to the diner and its owner as he and Obi-Wan prepared to return to the Temple. With the various items they’d bought plus some extra dessert Dex had given them loaded into a knapsack Obi-Wan must’ve bought when he hadn’t been paying attention, they set off down the street, intending to catch an airbus at the stop a few feet away.

“If we have time tomorrow,” Anakin began as they reached the bus stop, sliding his hand into Obi-Wan’s unconsciously, “I’d like to go back to the museum. I didn’t get to see everything that I wanted.”

“We’ll see,” Obi-Wan murmured, but he smiled down at Anakin. “If we have enough time, I don’t see why we couldn’t go back to the museum. I asked Qui-Gon when he thought the Council would see you, and he said that at the earliest, it would be tomorrow.”

“Really?” Anakin asked, feeling his stomach jolt unpleasantly, and his hand tightened on Obi-Wan’s. “Well, I hope it doesn’t take long, so we’ll have plenty of time to see more exhibits. There was a bunch I passed up seeing so I could spend more time in that simulator.”

“But you had fun, which is what counts,” Obi-Wan said and Anakin smiled up at him.

Just as Anakin opened his mouth to ask how much time they had left before they had to be back at the Temple, he caught something streak past in the corner of his eye. He turned his head just in time to see a group of three boys chasing something rather small and furry, and judging by the speed it was moving, the creature was terrified.

Without thinking, Anakin took off after the boys. He felt his gaze narrow on his targets, who turned down a dark, narrow alley. He heard a frightened, inhuman yelp just as he reached the shadows, and the triumphant laughter that rang out made him clench his fists. He couldn’t quite see what had happened though, as the boys stood in a semi-circle, their backs to the entryway.

“ _HEY!_ ” he shouted, pleased to see the boys jump about a meter, but they sneered when they saw him.

“And what do you want, runt?” the middle one said, drawing his rather pudgy frame up to its full, pathetic height, and staring down his nose at Anakin.

“Get lost before we whip you bloody,” he added, and the two boys that flanked him chuckled, their faces splitting in nasty grins.

“I’m not afraid of you,” he snapped as the three boys took a few steps towards him, “What happened to the creature you were chasing?”

“Why do you care?” the tallest boy said, his voice high pitched and nasally, and Anakin glared darkly at him. “’Snone of your business, little brat. Now get lost like we told ya to!”

“’Sides,” the third boy jeered, “that thing was a rabid monster. It tried to bite me; it deserved what it got!”

Anakin felt part of him sink at those words, a chill settling across his soul, and in the cracks between the boys, he could see the little furry creature shiver as it huddled by the end of the alley.

Anakin didn’t have to be a doctor to know that its hind legs were bent at an unnatural angle.

“It’s utterly defenseless,” he whispered, a strange ringing filling his ears as his gaze shifted from the creature back to the middle boy. “It wouldn’t have attacked you without good reason! What’d you do to it?”

“Leave it alone, runt,” the middle boy replied, starting towards him. That was when Anakin saw the thick metal pipe in the boy’s hand.

He snapped.

Anakin threw himself at the middle boy, his enraged shout echoing through the alley and startling the three. He punched the fat little monster as hard as he could, knocking the both of them to the ground, and managed to wrench the pipe from the boy. He hurled it away, not caring where it landed.

He could hear the other two boys yelling as he slammed his fists against the boy beneath him, but his mind was screaming in outrage, blocking out their words.

“ _You’re the monster!_ ” he heard himself roar. “ _You’re the one who deserves to be hurt, you fat, ugly, little-_ ”

“ _Anakin!_ ”

Strong hands lifted him off the boy, who had started sobbing, and he struggled against them, kicking and wiggling as a steady stream of the nastiest Huttese he could think of poured from his mouth. He screamed and cursed as the two boys snatched up their friend, blood dripping from his broken nose and beaten face, and they fled, throwing frightened glances over their shoulders as they went.

“ _Bastards!_ ” he screamed, still fighting against whoever was restraining him. “ _Pigs! Come back here!_ ”

_-ANAKIN!-_

The powerful thought made him gasp and it startled him from his tirade. His sorrow overcame his rage, and a sob tore itself from his throat. A pair of strong arms engulfed him then, pulling him against a warm body, and he shuddered, tears coursing down his cheeks.

“Hush now,” someone whispered, sending little soothing waves of calm through his trembling form, and he collapsed, his anger finally burning itself out. “Calm down, Ani. You _must_ calm down.”

“Why?” he choked. “Why? They’re rotten, they’re _evil_ -”

“Yes, Ani, they are,” the person whispered. “They’re horrible for what they did, but you still have _got_ to calm down. You _cannot_ let your anger, or your hate, rule you. Not now, not ever.”

“Why?” he demanded. “Why? They got what they deserved, for hurting something that was defenseless!”

“And you became just like them,” the person said sternly and Anakin jerked in surprise, hiccupping.

“You were _trying_ to hurt that boy simply because he’d made you angry. And when you let your anger take over, you became what you were fighting.”

“No,” Anakin whispered, shaking his head. “No, I’m good. I was saving that creature-”

“Were you?” the person interrupted. “Were you really, Ani? Because to me it seemed like you lost your temper and attacked those other children.”

Anakin stiffened, opening his mouth to defend himself, but the person continued before he could get a word in. “Yes, they were being cruel, and there is no excuse for their behavior, but hear me Anakin: _you cannot let your own anger over the situation interfere._ ”

He shuddered at the intensity in the words. He reached up to wipe at his eyes, but an adult’s hand stopped him.

“Anakin, look at me,” the person said, turning him, and he blinked through his tears until he recognized Obi-Wan.

“Do you know why you must do this?” the Jedi asked softly, his tone sending an inexplicable chill down Anakin’s spine. “Do you know why Jedi can’t react in anger? Why we hold our emotions in check when we act?”

Anakin sniffled, feeling a fresh wave of tears form at the expression on Obi-Wan’s face; he’d never seen the padawan look so serious. Obi-Wan gripped Anakin’s upper arms tightly as he knelt before the boy, their faces level and their gazes meeting briefly.

He saw Obi-Wan’s eyes darken with disappointment, and a deep bitterness began to worm its way into his heart; he’d _failed_. He’d talked about wanting to be a Jedi for as long as he could remember, and here he was, completely destroying his chance.

“Ani?” Obi-wan asked softly, and Anakin finally shook his head in an answer. “We don’t act in anger because of the great harm we could do, to both ourselves and those around us. A Jedi must always act defensively, never aggressively. It is one of the first lessons we learn.”

“And I failed,” Anakin whispered, hanging his head, and stiffened when Obi-Wan hugged him tightly.

“How could you possibly fail, Anakin, when no one taught you otherwise?” Obi-Wan said and the boy’s body began to relax. “Tell me, do you remember that presence we sensed earlier today? When we landed?”

Anakin nodded. It had been sickening, seeming to suck the life out of the very air around him, and then he’d been so cold, colder than he ever thought possible.

“That presence belongs to a creature of the Dark Side,” Obi-Wan said softly. “That’s what happens to Jedi when they start acting out of anger or hate; they start using the Dark Side of the Force, instead of keeping in the Light. They become an agent of pure evil.”

Anakin shivered at Obi-Wan’s words, part of his mind barely registering a dim voice that echoed once silence fell between them, and he swore it sounded strangely like himself.

_“Master, promise you won’t let me become like the monster that killed Qui-Gon?”_

Yet the phrase didn’t make any sense, because Qui-Gon wasn’t dead, and they hadn’t encountered any real monsters, not counting the boy he’d just beat up.

Besides, how could he turn into a monster? Monsters weren’t Human.

“Do you understand, Ani?” Obi-Wan asked, and he nodded, his tears drying on Obi-Wan’s tunic.

“I understand,” Anakin whispered, still shivering. “I promise I won’t do it again; I’ll work on controlling myself if it means I won’t turn evil. I’m going to be a Jedi and that means no anger.”

He shook his head, Obi-Wan’s arms tightening around him. “No anger.”

There was a powerful rush of a painful, twisting emotion that Anakin somehow knew was from Obi-Wan, and for a split-second, he thought he heard the Jedi sobbing. He pulled away, searching Obi-Wan’s face, and though the Jedi’s eyes gleamed in the dim light of the alley, he wasn’t crying.

“You’re sad,” Anakin said, and somehow sensed that he’d surprised Obi-Wan. “Why?”

“It’s nothing, Ani,” Obi-Wan replied, his smile a pale shadow of its former self. “Just some bad memories; don’t worry about it.”

Obi-Wan stood then, one of his hands resting on Anakin’s shoulder as he turned his gaze to the creature. “Now, let’s see what we can do to help the animal you saved, all right? We can talk more about this later, if you need to.”

“’Kay,” Anakin said quietly. “We’ll talk more later.”

***


End file.
